


Drabbles, challenges and one shots.

by vecus_saravan



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Daddy Jon Snow, Dark Porn, Drabble Collection, Dubcon fucking, F/F, F/M, Gen, Incest, Jon Snow is King in the North, Jon Snow is a Targaryen, Jon snow is in the kingsguard, King Jon Snow, M/M, Multi, One Shot, Other, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn With Plot, R Plus L Equals J, Smut, Targeryan madness jon snow, we are going to hell
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:21:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 35,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24146572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vecus_saravan/pseuds/vecus_saravan
Summary: writting whatever the hell comes to mind. Fyi, writting a Got fic is freaking hard.Chapter 1- Jon/CatelynChapter 2- Jon/AryaChapter 3- Jon/MellisandreChapter 4- Jon/ MissandeiChapter 5- Jon/Elia???
Relationships: Arianne Martell/Jon Snow, Asha Greyjoy/Jon Snow, Ashara Dayne/Jon Snow, Cersei Lannister/Jon Snow, Elia Martell/Jon Snow, Ellaria Sand/Jon Snow, Jon Snow/Arya Stark, Jon Snow/Catelyn Tully Stark, Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen, Jon Snow/Lyanna Stark, Jon Snow/Margaery Tyrell, Jon Snow/Rhaella Targaryen, Jon Snow/Rhaenys Targaryen (Daughter of Elia), Jon Snow/Sansa Stark, Jon Snow/Val, Jon Snow/Visenya Targaryen, Jon Snow/Ygritte, Melisandre of Asshai/Jon Snow, Missandei/Jon Snow, Myrcella Baratheon/Jon Snow, Sand Snakes/Jon Snow, Shiera Seastar/Jon Snow
Comments: 100
Kudos: 221





	1. Hatred and Lust

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry about the grammatical errors, this is largely unbeta'd and English is my 'secondary' language.

It was just a few moons passed when Jon Snow was saying goodbye to everyone in Winterfell, back when he was family was still whole. He could still remember that day like it was just yesterday; he’s father was still alive, the fat king had just announced a betrothal between Sansa and the crown prince Joffery and Ned Stark was to be his new hand while he was bound to join the night’s watch.  
Despite the tragedy of Bran’s fall, he could still recall how excited everyone was for the new paths and exciting journeys life was offering them.  
Oh, how only 3 moons can change everything, he found out the hard way that the night’s watch was now a band of criminals, bandits and rapists with only a few men of honor, he’s sisters were now hostages in king’s landing, he’s brother was now a cripple and his father…  
The idea that his father was now dead hurt him than he could ever describe and the fact that he died on false charges filled him with so much rage that he was really tempted to break his nights watch vows and join Robb’s army.  
He slinked through the courtyard, past the busy stables and into the dank crypts. Ned Stark’s statue was still being made, but Jon stood over his freshly dug tomb regardless. Right there where no one could see him, Jon Snow finally broke down, he cried for his father, who was supposed to tell him about his mother the next time they saw each other, his sisters, his brother Bran and for the fact that he wouldn’t be able to help his brother Robb in the wars to come.  
He sent a silent prayer to the Old Gods. For vengeance, justice, anything to make those pay for their wrongdoings. Lord Stark had perished at the hands of King Joffrey for a crime he did not commit, and his brother Robb was preparing for war, he had already summoned his lords of the north and their own bannermen but the North was a vast land with dangerous roads and animals, it would takes a couple of weeks for the all the lords to arrive in Winterfell but once they did, they would riding in full strength to the Riverlands.  
Jon’s aunt Lyanna regarded him silently as she always did, her candle flickering softly and lighting up her face in a soft glow. He never liked the queer feel of her stone eyes on him, nor the imposing ones of the Kings of Winter, so he bid his farewell to his father quickly and left for his room. On the morrow he would ride back to his new brothers at castle black to spend out the rest of his days as part of the Night’s Watch, as noble an institution a bastard could ever hope for.  
Ghost hunted with Grey wind and shaggy dog while he spoke to the rest of his siblings. He tried to console his brothers but unsurprisingly, none of them in a mood to talk but what really Jon was the barely concealed rage on Robb’s face. He didn’t know much of war, but he still understood that fighting a war without a clear head was not going to do him any good.  
At night, as he was preparing himself for bed when he heard the door to his chamber creak open. To his surprise Lady Catelyn stood in the threshold, clothed in a simple sleeping gown that almost seemed inappropriate.  
He had successfully managed to avoid her throughout his visit but it seems he’s luck has finally ran out. She didn't say anything as she closed and locked the door behind her and approached him at his bed, her fiery braid swinging with each step. She stopped curiously close to him, her blue eyes burning with disdain and fury into his dark grey ones.  
Lady Stark had never been fond of Jon Snow, and that may have been an understatement. Ever since he could remember she had treated him as no more than the mud she flung from her boots. It infuriated him to be treated as such, he never asked to be squirted into his mother's belly and whelped and yet this woman hated him for it. As a mercy, if he could even call it as such, she'd never talked to him, never approached him, until now. It was shocking enough she'd left his brother Bran’s bedside, but the fact he was going back to the wall the next morning filled Jon with suspicion. He felt his throat work, uncomfortable.  
“Lady Stark.”  
Jon said simply, moving back towards his bed until his thighs hit the edge. He could see that just like his brothers, she had also been wracked with grief over her Lord husband’s murder and daughters held at ransom. Jon felt his fists ball and his temper rise at the thought of Arya being held prisoner, but forced himself to let the feeling go.  
‘They’d never hurt her. She’s too valuable. Besides, the Watch takes no part.’  
Catelyn closed the gap between them, forcing him to sit on his bed. Her hand reached out absentmindedly to cup his face, then twirl a lock of hair through her fingers. Jon jerked back in surprise and disgust. She was looking at him, but she was 1,000 miles away.  
“You really do look like them, you know. Ned and Brandon. They’re both dead now, but you…”  
She said her eyes regarding him with so much hate that it threatened to take his breath away.  
“My Bran is crippled and even my girls are being held prisoners but you… you’re still here.”  
The words sent Jon reeling. It was the last thing he wanted to hear from his father's widow while she hovered over him. She placed her hands on his shoulders, and Jon looked at her, truly looked at her for maybe the first time. She was still a beautiful woman for her age. With her features relaxed in her reverie Jon could see she was comely, a fact that could not be denied no matter how much he despised her.  
She lifted herself onto his lap into a swift movement that made Jon’s cock stir despite himself. It seemed wrong, her poised over his manhood while her husband’s bones made their way to Winterfell.  
His initial reaction was to shove her off, to bolt from his room and leave early for the wall without saying goodbye to his brothers. He had no business interacting with this woman, much less been in such close proximity to her. It would be better to simply shove her off and leave as soon as possible and yet a part of him, a dark disgusting part of him really wanted to see what the she would do now that she had him in such a compromising position.  
This was the closest she had ever gotten to him so one could excuse him if he’s curiosity got the best of him.  
So instead of shoving her off, he simply sat still and waited in silence  
Jon didn’t have to wait for long before lady Catelyn used his shoulders for leverage as she drugged herself further into his lap. He found himself tugging her braid hard enough that she exposed her neck.  
“Aye? And what of it?” he asked evenly as he regarded her cold murderous gaze.  
Something in the back of his mind screamed that this was folly, a grave insult to the memory of his father whose body was not even cold yet. Jon ignored it completely in favor of the dark thoughts that were urging him to bite her neck. He was immediately rewarded with a small moan and a deft roll of hips against his hardening cock. They pulled apart for a moment, panting. He could see his own contempt for her shine within her eyes, but strangely, desire lurked there as well. His right hand fisted into the back of her head to force it down so he could crash his lips upon hers, nipping hard and drawing small beads of blood as he went.  
All his life, this woman has always made her thoughts of his bastard status pretty clear, she even tried to get her children to spurn him as well, making it clear that true born children shouldn’t interact to baseborn like him.  
‘Bastards are creatures of lust and greed’ she once told Arya  
Perhaps it was the sickness in him, but Jon really wanted to prove her right in that moment. She always suspected that he wanted to usurp Robb as the lord of Winterfell and the truth was, she was right.  
He did want to be a trueborn Stark, he did want to be lord of Winterfell, he has always been jealous of all the trueborn Stark children and it has been he’s secret shame to admit that he wanted Robb’s life to be his own.  
But right now, that’s not what he wanted to think of, what he wanted to prove to her was how right she was when she designated him as a wanton creature of nothing but ‘lust, greed and contempt’  
And so Jon Snow didn't bother being gentle with her. He assaulted her mouth and bucked his hips up with fervor. She responded in kind, gyrating on top of him before forcing him flat against the bed with a hand clasped cruelly against his throat. With the other hand she hastily undid his breeches and gathered her skirts around her.  
Lady Stark sank onto his cock without warning. He had never been inside a woman in all his 15 years, and had heard enough from Robb and Theon to know it was good, but he had never expected it to feel this good. Shamed for the briefest second! Jon tried to stifle a groan by biting down sharply on his lower lip, but it didn’t last; she was so slippery and warm that Jon immediately felt like he would spill inside her in just a few seconds.  
Catelyn rode him with urgency, her moves practiced and adept. When Jon growled the noise was muffled by the hand still clasped firmly around his throat. She was sneering down at him as she fucked him not caring one bit at the loud squeaking of the bed, seemingly proud of herself.  
Jon wasn’t going to last, he could feel his release coming every time Lady Catelyn slammed her hips into him, she was clamping down on him, but the spots were moving, like she was massaging his cock with her cunt.  
He was finally understanding why Theon would never shut up about it. Why even his father had soiled his honor. The sensations were both maddening and insane at the same time.  
Jon moaned louder than she did, he’s hands clamped on her hips, holding tightly to them to try and slow down her pace but every manner of control left him when she responded to his actions by slapping him hard across the face making him squirt his seed inside her cunt.  
With a loud groan, he emptied himself in her as he felt her cunt trying to milk him.  
He’s eyes snapped back to her face where he could her hateful sneer had somehow intensified. Apparently she didn’t like the fact that he had found his release and even more so that he spilled inside of her.  
Jon Snow couldn’t help but let out a chuckle at her disgusted expression, he was a green boy, what in the seven hells did she expect?  
His amusement was heightened further when he realized that she had not found her own release. Her pleasure meant nothing to him and if he was being truthful, he felt rather vindicated that he would leave her flustered and frustrated while he would be satisfied and would leave with the knowledge that he had fucked that high and mighty Lady Catelyn who had apparently lost all sense of dignity and duty and got nothing out of it.  
He had every intention to shove her off of him but once again she proved to be two steps ahead of him when he felt her move off of him but before he could think of pulling up his breeches, he felt her moving to kneel at the edge of the bed taking him in her hand.  
Like a snake striking its prey, he saw her unhinge her jaw and swallowed the tip, slowly taking him inch by inch until most of his cock was lodged in her throat.  
He remembered all of Theon’s boasts about the woman who did this for him and by gods was Jon loath to admit how right the obnoxious squid was about this. The feeling was indescribable, he could feel himself quickly getting back to his full length.  
Jon moaned as she bobbed her head up and down, slurping and sucking on him, covering his shaft, balls and part of her own hand with saliva.  
Once she was satisfied that he was ready for another round, she stood up and immediately pushed him back to the bed, her hand once again wrapped around his throat.  
But he wouldn’t stand for it, not anymore. A part of him still wanted to push her off and leave but his own ego would not allow it. This woman had looked down on him all his life, believe her children to be better than him simply because of circumstances that were beyond his control. And yet, even then she is the one that came to him, wishing to find pleasure from him while insulting, humiliating and professing her undying hatred for him in the process.  
No, if Catelyn wanted anything from, then he would give it to her on his own terms.  
So before she could climb on top of him, Jon quickly removing her hand and flipped her on all fours with ease with his right hand pinning her head to pillows while his left hand pushed up her skirts finally getting to see her perky ass and wet cunt which was covered by a small tuft of red hair.  
The bastard of Winterfell shuffled forward until the tip of his cock was resting against her now wet entrance. Gripping her hips tightly, Jon Snow pulled her toward him even as he slowly thrust forward, inhaling sharply as his cock forced it's way deeper and deeper inside her. Feeling her tremble around him as he intruded in her body, Jon smirked.  
“Are you enjoying my ‘bastard cock’ lady Stark?” he gasped out 'Stark' as he thrust forward suddenly, sinking himself to the hilt in her snatch in one mover.

Catelyn yelped at the sudden painful intrusion into her depths, feeling herself stretch to accommodate Jon's cock. 

Waiting for a moment, he started to steadily saw in and out of her cunt, groaning as her hot slick walls twitched around him. His pace soon began to intensify, as he heard her whimper through her teeth into her arm, causing him to cruel smirk with satisfaction.  
Grabbing a hand full of her braid, he pulled at it as he continued to piston his cock into her groaning as with every pull her inner walls clenched around him a little tighter. Every ripple of her insides around him, had him gritting his teeth, as her pussy tried to milk him of his cum.

Feeling Jon Snow start to thrust harder, causing his balls to slap against her thighs, Catelyn writhed beneath him. Feeling a hand start to stroke over one of her ass-cheeks, she was shocked into moaning out loud and yelping when an open-palm struck her ass with a sharp crack. Despite herself, the sudden pain sent tingles racing towards her pussy and caused her to shudder and moan as her pussy clenched tightly around Jon’s cock.

She started moaning and writhing then, before she turned back to look at right dead in the eye, not once losing the hatred she held for him.  
“It should have always been you,” she gasped. “You should have been burnt alive. Not Brandon. You should have been crippled, Not Bran… you should have been executed, not Ned. You.”  
She chanted it like a mantra as Jon increased his thrusts, not caring if he was hurting her while his pleasure began to crescendo. She seemed to relish in the roughness, her hips rising to meet his with each stroke as his balls slapped against her thighs. Her hateful words spurred him forward until as he reared his arm back and slapped her ass harshly once more. He was however shocked when she shrieked and stained his thighs. So shocked was he that he had no preparation to try and hold back his own release as the lady of Winterfell’s pussy clenched and relaxed around him. Groaning lowly, Jon forced his cock as deep as it would go inside her and shuddered as his seed once again started to fill her, with every thrust of his hips. Pulling out, the last of the bastard’s weakening shots painted her pussy lips white, and got caught in her pubic hair as it started to trickle down, quickly joined as their combined release trickled out of her.  
His mouth curled in a cruel smirk as he lowered herself to whisper in her ear. “I hope the gods are good and you'll have a bastard of your own in a few moons.”  
“I think not, bastard.” With that, she disentangled herself from his body and crudely wrapped her shift around her before slapping him hard across the face and exiting the chamber and slamming the door behind her.  
With the realization that in one night, he managed to betray his father, his siblings and even brake his night’s watch vows simply because he couldn’t control himself in the presence of Catelyn Stark brought a bitter laugh out of him.  
He really was a bastard after all.


	2. game of roses and Bran is a three eyed raven. (Jon/Arya, Margery)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roses plot and siblings fuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was supposed to be a new story but oh well.  
> excuse my terrible grammar.

MARGAERY

"Finally you’ve arrived, where were you all, Volantis?"

Grandmother's voice lacked the feebleness of old age. Sharp and direct, her words immediately filled the room with tension even though she had barely finished hobbling in to it. Olenna Tyrell had the presence of a giant when she so chose, one of the many reasons Margaery admired her grandmother so.  
"Oh, you summoned us with such haste mother. You couldn’t simply expect us to-"

"Do be quiet, Mace. Dealing with this is taxing enough without having to pretend to be patient whilst you bumble. You there," Olenna cut off her son before turning to address the servant standing by the door. "Fetch us some cakes so my son has something to fill his mouth with, should the temptation to open it prove too much."  
Margaery admired the composure of the serving girl as she hastily left to carry out grandmother's orders.

Mace Tyrell, the lord of Highgarden and the Warden of the South, was not as admirable as her grandmother. Though she loved her lord father dearly, she shared her grandmother's opinion of his intelligence.

"Now then," Grandmother began as she took a seat opposite Margaery. "I’m sure you’re all wondering why I decided to call for a meeting at such a time.”  
Seeing everybody’s nods, she continued, 

“I’ve received word that the hand of the king has fallen ill, a rather serious illness it seemed, one that he might not recover from. And not only that, our own is planning for a trip to Winterfell, with the entire royal family. Every rumor and scrap of news agree that he intends to make this Stark fellow his hand. Ah, excellent, your chew toys are here, Mace. That will be all."

The serving girl had returned with a tray of cakes and assorted fruits, placing it in the center of their table and bowing as she took her leave.  
"Robert naming his foster brother his hand is of no real concern of ours, the man may very well be as politically able as you, dear." She continued gesturing at her son. "However, the king has taken the entire royal family with him, including the crown prince. And now I believe its time to proceed with our plans, Willas?"

Her eldest brother had just entered the room and barely taken his seat before the question was thrown at him. If he was startled he did not show it, instead pausing thoughtfully before answering grandmother.

"Lord Stark has two daughters, both are at an age of being wed and one of them is of an age with the crown prince, Sansa Stark" He spoke slowly, fully expecting Olenna to interrupt him.

"Go on, dear." Grandmother prompted with a sharp nod.

"It could be that the king is planning a betrothal between his eldest son and the eldest Stark girl. It's no secret that he considers Lord Stark his brother," Willas elaborated with growing confidence. "So if this is indeed the case and Lord Stark accepts, there will be little we could do to convince the king to choose Margaery over the eldest Stark girl."  
Margaery knew it was the duty of all highborn daughters to secure alliances for their father's house through marriage. While she had long ago accepted this truth, at times she still felt like little more than a piece in the game her grandmother entered her in almost the day she was born.

Her family wanted her to be queen, as all highborn fathers undoubtedly hope for their daughters, as Margaery herself hopes to be. Still, the rumors of the crown prince's disposition did little to endear him to Margaery.

Her father's pompous voice reached through her wandering haze and brought her back to the situation at hand.

"The king would be a fool to-" he began before stopping at a look from grandmother, meekly reaching out for one of the cakes on the table.

"Yes, the king would be a fool to accept an alliance with the Starks over us. Besides ensuring the wine and ale will always be cold there isn't much the north has to offer." 

Grandmother paused as she considered her own words. "But the man has already been denied one opportunity to join his house with that of his pet wolf, and so it's highly unlikely he will squander this second chance."

"So we will not be heading to the capital once the king has returned?" Margaery asked, speaking for the first time.

"No my dear, we’ll be travelling to the north. I believe its time for secure betrothals for you and Willas." Olenna answered with the smile she always wore when speaking to her granddaughter.

“North? Will we be travelling with royal family, it might give us the opportunity to-

“No father, that’s not what grandmother is implying” Willas interrupted earning raised brows from everyone all across the room except Margaery’s grandmother.

“Grandmother plans to secure a betrothal between Sansa and I and there’s also a strong possibility that Margaery’s own betrothal will be found in Winterfell”  
Winterfell? 

Before Margaery could voice her thoughts, her father beat her to the punch. 

“But… but W-Winterfell mother? Margaery was born to be queen not to freeze off at-

“Do shut up Mace and let the boy talk.” Olenna interrupted once more gesturing for Willas to continue

“As you’ve all probably heard, Lord Eddard Stark has a bastard son, a certain Jon Snow. A son he supposedly fathered on Ashara Dayne, or atleast that’s what he wants Westeros to believe.”

“What do you mean? you don’t think that this Jon Snow is really Ned stark’s bastard son?” her older brother, Garlan, asked in curiosity. “I would think the presence of Ser Arthur Dayne at Winterfell is already proof of Ned stark’s infidelity with lady Ashara”

“Exactly dear, it is for Ser Arthur’s presence in the north that we believe that this bastard boy isn’t really who Ned Stark says it is” her grandmother said further confusing her.  
“We all know what happened during the rebellion; the mad king killed both Rickard Stark and his heir and so called for the heads of Eddard and Robert’s heads and so on and so forth. But what I’ve always found hard to believe is the story of Rhegar Targeryen kidnapping and raping Lyanna Stark” Olenna’s explained patiently as if speaking to a child.  
“I always believed that there was much more to that story than what Robert kept telling everyone. And my suspicions were confirmed when after the war Ned stark arrived at the capital with Lyanna’s bones and a ‘bastard son’ who just so happened to accompanied by Ser Arthur Dayne”

Margaery heard her mother and father gasp in surprise echoing her own thoughts and once more, someone else spoke before she could voice her thoughts.  
“Do you realize what you’re implying grandmother, that would be treason for lord stark. Besides you could be wrong, everyone has heard rumors of Lord Stark and Ashara Dayne, it could be that this Jon Snow really is his son” Garlan said.

“Possible” Willas conceded but then continued, “But then what’s also surprising is Ser Arthur absence during the rebellion. We all know how close prince Rhegar and Ser Arthur were, some even said that they were best friends and yet he wasn’t there during the ‘battle of the Trident’, he wasn’t there to protect the mad-king when lord Tywin sacked King’s Landing and he also wasn’t there to protect Rhegar’s children when lord Tywin’s men butchered them but somehow throughout all these events, Ser Arthur finally showed up after the War ended with Ned stark caring a bastard boy and Lyanna’s bones” 

“And its not only Ser Arthur absence that’s surprising dear, neither Ser Gerold Hightower, the commander of the kingsguard, nor Ser Oswell Whent made any appearance during the rebellion. We only heard of them joining up with the queen Rhella in Bravos after the war was done.” 

“But, w-what could all this possibly mean?” her father stuttered out earning an annoyed eye roll from grandmother

“It means you twit, that its highly possible that Rhegar did not kidnap the she wolf, instead they run off and got married somewhere. It definitely would make much more sense why Ser Arthur is out there freezing in the North with his supposed nephew when he could have easily taken the boy back to Starfall or even joined up with his comrades in Bravos with the remaining Targeryans” 

Silence took the room as everyone digested this new found information.

Saying that Margaery was shocked was an understatement, if what grandmother was saying was true, then it added more players to the game than she initially expected and definitely made things complicated. 

Could it really be true? Did lord Stark really fool everyone else and managed raise a Targaryen prince in his household. 

If it was then it could mean war in the near future. King Robert would not accept or even tolerate the presence of any targeryan in the seven kingdoms, much less one who was birthed by the man that he hated and the woman that he started the war for. 

If he ever found out, this time, the war would be amongst the Starks and the Baratheon.  
And who would even win this kind of war?

The Baratheons and Lannisters would have the advantage obviously, but the Starks had the Riverlands on their side and Dragonstone would definitely want to a Targeryen. Dorne might ally with the north in order to avenge the deaths of princess Elia and her children but then again, they might not like the idea of supporting a child who would have been the cause of the rebellion in the first place. 

She had no idea who the vale would support considering both Ned stark and Robert were fostered there, but then again, Robert named the lord of the vale as the hand so it could bring the tide back at three kingdoms against three. 

The Greyjoys couldn’t be trusted with anything as their own rebellion was still fresh in the minds of everyone.  
And that only left… the Reach.

The Tyrells were the only ones who weren’t closely allied to any other kingdom and thus their involvement would most likely spell victory for whichever side they choose.  
Sure, they owed their status as great house to the Targeryans but they had also bent the knee to Robert and grandmother would never allow them to ally with a losing side.  
“You wish for me to marry his Jon Snow” she said flatly, “if he is indeed who you say he is”

Her conclusion brought a small smile to her grandmother who has been staring at her since the start of the meeting.

“B-But w-what if he is a bastard mother? We would be ruining Margery’s future if we-

“That’s one of the reasons we are going to the North Mace, do I have to spell it out for you?” 

She could see that her grandmother was starting to get annoyed with her father, but if she was being truthful then she would admit that even she was not confident with this new course of action. It seemed a bit too risky with low chances of success.

“Willas’ betrothal to Sansa would serve three purposes; to ally ourselves to the Northern kingdom, it gives us a chance to get a measure of this boy and find out the truth of him and most importantly, it takes out Sansa Stark as competition for Margery as the future queen of the seven kingdoms. If he really is a bastard then we would have a better chance of proposing a betrothal for Margery with prince Joffrey. “, the queen of thorns explained

“And if he is who you say he is, how are we going to convince Lord Stark to wed Jon to Margery? I don’t think he would want to start another war and betray his best friend.” Garlan asked to which Olenna chuckled in response

“My dear, War is already coming to Westeros, the Targeryans across the narrow sea will not be satisfied with spending their lives in hiding while Robert rules their Kingdoms. You just work on befriending this boy and leave Eddard Stark to me.” Olenna stated with confidence as she rose from her sit.

“Another war IS coming my little roses, whether we like it or not and this time the TYRELLS will win.” 

BRAN

After supper, Bran spent the evening alone in the godswood, trying to teach his wolf to fetch a stick, and failing. The wolfing was smarter than any of the hounds in his father’s kennel and Bran would have sworn he understood every word that was said to him, but he showed very little interest in chasing sticks. 

He was still trying to decide on a name. Robb was calling his Grey Wind, because he ran so fast. Sansa had named hers Lady, and Arya named hers after some old warrior queen in the songs, and little Rickon called his Shaggydog, which Bran thought was a pretty stupid name for a dire wolf. Jon’s wolf, the white one, was Ghost. Bran wished he had thought of that first, even though his wolf wasn’t white.

He had tried a hundred names in the last fortnight, but none of them sounded right. Finally he got tired of the stick game and decided to go climbing.  
He hadn’t been up to the broken tower for weeks with everything that had happened, and this might be his last chance. He raced across the godswood, taking the long way around to avoid the pool where the heart tree grew. 

The heart tree had always frightened him; trees ought not have eyes, Bran thought, or leaves that looked like hands.  
His wolf came sprinting at his heels.

“You stay here,” he told him at the base of the sentinel tree near the armory wall. 

“Lie down. That’s right. Now stay—” 

The wolf did as he was told. Bran scratched him behind the ears, then turned away, jumped, grabbed a low branch, and pulled himself up.  
He was halfway up the tree, moving easily from limb to limb, when the wolf got to his feet and began to howl. 

Bran looked back down. His wolf fell silent, staring up at him through slitted yellow eyes. A strange chill went through him. He began to climb again.  
Once more the wolf howled. 

“Quiet,” he yelled.

“Sit down. Stay. You’re worse than Mother.” 

The howling chased him all the way up the tree, until finally he jumped off onto the armory roof and out of sight.  
The rooftops of Winterfell were Bran’s second home. His mother often said that Bran could climb before he could walk. Bran could not remember when he first learned to walk, but he could not remember when he started to climb either, so he supposed it must be true. 

To a boy, Winterfell was a grey stone labyrinth of walls and towers and courtyards and tunnels spreading out in all directions. In the older parts of the castle, the halls slanted up and down so that you couldn’t even be sure what floor you were on.

The place had grown over the centuries like some monstrous stone tree, maester Luwin told him once, and its branches were gnarled and thick and twisted, its roots sunk deep into the earth. 

When he got out from under it and scrambled up near the sky, Bran could see all of Winterfell in a glance. He liked the way it looked, spread out beneath him, only birds wheeling over his head while all the life of the castle went on below. 

Bran could perch for hours among the shapeless, rain-worn gargoyles that brooded over the First Keep, watching it all: the men drilling with wood and steel in the yard, the cooks tending their vegetables in the glass garden, restless dogs running back and forth in the kennels, the silence of the godswood, the girls gossiping beside the washing well.  
It made him feel like he was lord of the castle, in a way even Robb would never know. It taught him Winterfell’s secrets too. 

His mother was terrified that one day Bran would slip off a wall and kill himself. He told her that he wouldn’t, but she never believed him. Once she made him promise that he would stay on the ground. 

He had managed to keep that promise for almost a fortnight, miserable every day, until one night he had gone out the window of his bedroom when his brothers were fast asleep. 

He confessed his crime the next day in a fit of guilt. Lord Eddard ordered him to the godswood to cleanse himself. Guards were posted to see that Bran remained there alone all night to reflect on his disobedience.

The next morning Bran was nowhere to be seen. They finally found him fast asleep in the upper branches of the tallest sentinel in the grove. As angry as he was, his father could not help but laugh. 

“You’re not my son,” he told Bran when they fetched him down, “you’re a squirrel. So be it. If you must climb, then climb, but try not to let your mother see you.”

Bran did his best, although he did not think he ever really fooled her. Since his father would not forbid it, she turned to others. 

Most of the time they never saw him anyway. People never looked up. That was another thing he liked about climbing; it was almost like being invisible.  
He liked how it felt too, pulling himself up a wall stone by stone, fingers and toes digging hard into the small crevices between. He always took off his boots and went barefoot when he climbed; it made him feel as if he had four hands instead of two. 

He liked the deep, sweet ache it left in the muscles afterward. He liked the way the air tasted way up high, sweet and cold as a winter peach. He liked the birds: the crows in the broken tower, the tiny little sparrows that nested in cracks between the stones, the ancient owl that slept in the dusty loft above the old armory. Bran knew them all.  
Most of all, he liked going places that no one else could go, and seeing the grey sprawl of Winterfell in a way that no one else ever saw it. It made the whole castle Bran’s secret place. His favorite haunt was the broken tower.

Once it had been a watchtower, the tallest in Winterfell. A long time ago, a hundred years before even his father had been born, a lightning strike had set it afire. The top third of the structure had collapsed inward, and the tower had never been rebuilt.  
Sometimes his father sent ratters into the base of the tower, to clean out the nests they always found among the jumble of fallen stones and charred and rotten beams. But no one ever got up to the jagged top of the structure now except for Bran and the crows. 

He knew two ways to get there. You could climb straight up the side of the tower itself, but the stones were loose, the mortar that held them together long gone to ash, and Bran never liked to put his full weight on them. The best way was to start from the godswood, shiny up the tall sentinel, and cross over the armory and the guards hall, leaping roof to roof, barefoot so the guards wouldn’t hear you overhead. 

That brought you up to the blind side of the First Keep, the oldest part of the castle, a squat round fortress that was taller than it looked. Only rats and spiders lived there now but the old stones still made for good climbing. 

You could go straight up to where the gargoyles leaned out blindly over empty space, and wing from gargoyle to gargoyle, hand over hand, around to the north side. From there, if you really stretched, you could reach out and pull yourself over to the broken tower where it leaned close.  
The last part was the scramble up the blackened stones to the eyrie, no more than ten feet, and then the crows would come round to see if you’d brought any corn.  
Bran was moving from gargoyle to gargoyle with the ease of long practice when he heard the voices. He was so startled he almost lost his grip. The First Keep had been empty all his lifts saying. There was a row of windows beneath him, and the voice was drifting out of the last window on this side.

“-Shouldn’t be doing this…” Said a man’s voice.

Wait… that wasn’t just any man, that was…  
Jon?  
What was he’s brother doing here? And who was he talking to at a time like this?

“You say that every time…” he heard someone reply.

He knew that voice as well, that was he’s sister Arya. But what were they doing here in a broken tower?

“Besides, with your uncle always following you around like you’re some vulnerable egg, we don’t do this as much as I would like.” Arya continued.

Bran had no idea what they were talking about, but from Arya’s statement he could tell that Jon’s uncle, Ser Arthur Dayne, was keeping them from doing something.  
While it was true that the legendary knight was fond of following Jon around, Bran didn’t see anything wrong with that. To Bran, having someone like the sword of the morning as a close companion was like a dream come true.

He had always felt jealous when he saw Jon was always being trained and tutored by the former kingsguard while the rest of them only ever got lessons from Ser Rodrick.

To Bran, none of this was ever fair but he couldn’t go against his mother’s wishes, who for some reason really hated Ser Arthur Dayne.  
Bran climbed even higher knowing that he needed to get closer to the window to see what was happening inside.

Bran sat astride the gargoyle, tightened his legs around it, and swung himself around, upside down. He hung by his legs and slowly stretched his head down toward the window. The world looked strange upside down. A courtyard swam dizzily below him, its stones still wet with melted snow.  
And what he saw shocking the innocence out of him…

Bran looked in the window. Inside the room, was Arya and Jon, both were only in their smallclothes, kissing like his parents did when they thought no one was looking.  
Or rather, it was Arya who was running her tongue along Jon’s jaw before placing biting kisses along his throat.

“I’m serious Arya, we shouldn’t be doing this. It’s- its not right”

“Oh yeah? If you’re so worried about sullying my precious honor then push me away then brother” Arya challenged him.

Although Bran couldn’t wrap his head around what he was watching, he could still tell that Jon’s protests were not as strong as he could truly make them and that seemed to encourage his sister.  
Bran was shocked even further when he saw Arya slip her hand inside Jon’s smallclothes and leaned in to kiss his ear as she spoke.

“Would it be better if I was betrothed to some lord in the south then…”

“Arya” Jon warned.

Another kiss on his lower jaw.

“I am at an age to be wedded and bedded after all. Would it be better if I was doing this with my betrothed Mmh?”

Another on lips.

“Fucking him instead of you”

Bran watched as she took out his half-brother’s cock and grinned at him as she said,

“Would you rather someone else took me for himself instead?”

Those words seemed to spur Jon on as not a moment later, he’s half-brother growled and fisted Arya’s smallclothes in his hand before tearing it off. He watched wide-eyed as Jon pressed two fingers between Arya legs as he returned her kisses fiercely. 

Bran thought of how wrong this was. Arya and Jon were brother and sister, they might share only one parent but still.  
They weren’t supposed to be doing this. Only the Targeryans were known to wed brother to sister. The only incestuous relationship in the Stark family were with cousins, as in the case of his grandparents.

But this… Bran always knew that Jon and Arya were the closest siblings in the Stark household, one might even say that Jon was closer to Arya than he was to Robb. But none would have thought they were this close.

Bran was old enough to understand what was going on, at three-and-ten, some might even say he was a man grown. He had reached the stage where he finally understood what men and women did in their private moments.

He had already started developing those kinds of feelings himself, he was even looking at girls differently now but none of those had been with his own siblings.  
What they were doing was wrong, in every way possible. A sin against both the old gods and the new.

Did any of them realize this? He heard Jon protesting earlier but it seemed he was easily dissuaded and the worrying part was that Arya didn’t have to say much to do so.  
Did any of them truly understood the consequences of their actions if his parents found out about this?  
Didn’t Arya know that she would no longer be able to find a suitable upstanding lord as her husband? That their actions would dishonor their house and themselves.  
Bran ought to run and get their parents. By morning Jon’s head would be rolling and Arya off to the silent sisters or somewhere else before she could bring further dishonor to the north.

Yet… Bran was morbidly curious what was coming next. Would Jon lay with his own sister like the Targeryans? What would it even look like when a man lays with a woman?

His thoughts were immediately interrupted when he saw Jon grabbed a handful of his sister’s arse and lifted her as she twined her legs around his waist.  
Arya didn’t seem to care when Jon roughly pressed her against the wall and entered her without much warning. If anything, she seemed to be enjoying herself exponentially seeing as all she did was moan loudly as he continued to thrust inside her with reckless abandon.

“YES BROTHER! Take me, take your sister’s wet cunt!” she moaned loudly encouraging Jon, seemingly so blissfully unaware of the world around them.

Bran couldn’t help the red blush that spread across his face hearing the vulvar words coming from his own sister’s mouth, both her hands squeezing his buttocks.  
Over and over, bran watched as he thrust inside Arya grunting in the process as his sister spew more lewd words from her mouth.

“Those other lords can fuck off Arya. YOU’RE MINE. You were meant for me. You and tight little cunt.” Jon said possessively as the thrusts started producing wet slapping sounds that resounded all across the room.

“Oh… and what about my honor brother?”

“Arya”

“Say it!”

“Arya I…"

Arya grabbed his hair and yanked, forcing Jon to look at her. “Say it Jon, Fucking say it.” She practically growled, her eyes filled with lust.

“FUCK your honor” her aggressiveness made Jon slam into her even harder. Arya‘s ass was becoming slick with her juices which forced Jon to grab it even harder so he wouldn’t lose his grip, digging into her tender flesh and making her skin pale around his fingers. 

“Yes brother. I am yours as you are All mine.”

Jon's eyes were only meant for the sight of Arya, his every attention belonging to her and only her. They moved with a oneness that Bran did not know possible, each thrust of his hips met in equal measure by hers. When Jon pulled, Arya pushed. What Arya asked, Jon gave.

They kissed, and suddenly they ceased being two separate entities but one being joined by flesh and blood and utter devotion. With every touch of Jon's hands, he expressed true and utter devotion. His lips met her neck and jaw and cheeks as if to offer her everything he could, each and every drop of care he could give, he gave.  
Arya pleaded then, her heels digging in to Jon's arse, forcing him into her. Harder, her body begged, more, her eyes pleaded, and Jon was fluent in the language of Arya. His breath began to grow ragged, but he gave her what she needed, her needs entirely before his.

"Jon, I'm close," cried Arya, her legs shaking against Jon's skin. "Don't stop!"

Bran is red throughout but he can’t but feel the stirring in his gut and stop the rising of his cock as he watches his sibling’s debaucheries. He is suddenly uncomfortable in his breeches as he imagines himself in his brother’s place, pressing his sister against the wall of the broken tower as he drives his cock in her, making his sister moan all those dirty words.

Something inside Bran roars and he feels his heart beat faster than a drum.

NO, This was wrong, Bran needed to get out of here. He isn’t supposed to be watching this, hell, his own siblings shouldn’t be doing this.  
His face was redder than a tomato ad he felt like he was burning inside. Equal parts shame as well as the arousal that burnt in him like Balerion’s Dragonfire. He was ashamed for their house, ashamed for his siblings and importantly he was ashamed that he had watched this and enjoyed it, he had even gone as far as imagining himself in his brother’s place fucking Arya with the ferociousness of a wolf. 

This had to be some terrible, really embarrassing nightmare. One he would wake up from soon and realize that he’s mind was just playing dirty tricks on him.  
no matter how close Jon and Arya were, they wouldn’t do something like this.

Would they?

Even if they did, this was still a forbidden love like the songs Sansa liked so much.

With that thought in mind, Bran pulled himself up, bending double as he reached for the gargoyle. He moved quietly and slowly, making sure not to make a single sound.  
And so he moved to his bedchamber, face stuck between flustered, aroused and horror as all he could think about were the moans and grunts his siblings made throughout their sinful acts.

Little did Bran know that in only a few weeks, he would find himself in the position, only this time it will a different set of siblings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is always appreciated.  
> CHEERS!!!


	3. The Wolf's shadow, (Jon/ Melisandre)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The power to create life, the power to cause death and the power to cast shadows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been wanting to post this for a long time now but anyway, please enjoy😊

"Lord Snow?” a soft voice said. 

He turned to find Clydas standing beneath the broken archway, a parchment in his hand. 

“From Stannis?” 

Jon had been hoping for some word from the king. The Night’s Watch took no part, he knew, and it should not matter to him which king emerged triumphant.

Somehow it did. “Is it Deepwood?” 

“No, my lord.” Clydas thrust the parchment forward. It was tightly rolled and sealed, with a button of hard pink wax. Only the Dreadfort uses pink sealing wax

Jon ripped off his gauntlet, took the letter and cracked the seal. When he saw the signature, he forgot the battering Rattleshirt had given him.  
Ramsay Bolton, Lord of the Hornwood, it read, in a huge, spiky hand. The brown ink came away in flakes when Jon brushed it with his thumb. Beneath Bolton’s signature, Lord Dustin, Lady Cerwyn and four Ryswells had appended their own marks and seals. A cruder hand had drawn the giant of House Umber. 

“Might we know what it says, my lord?” asked Iron Emmett. 

Jon saw no reason not to tell him. “Moat Cailin is taken. The flayed corpses of the ironmen have been nailed to posts along the kingsroad. Roose Bolton summons all leal lords to Barrowton, to affirm their loyalty to the Iron Throne and celebrate his son’s wedding to …”

NO, no no no no!!! 

His heart seemed to stop for a moment. No, that is not possible. She died in King’s Landing, with Father. 

“Lord Snow?” 

Clydas peered at him closely with his dim pink eyes. “Are you … unwell? You seem …” 

“He’s to marry Arya Stark. My little sister.” Jon could almost see her in that moment, long-faced and gawky, all knobby knees and sharp elbows, with her dirty face and tangled hair. 

They would wash the one and comb the other, he did not doubt, but he could not imagine Arya in a wedding gown, nor Ramsay Bolton’s bed. No matter how afraid she is, she will not show it. If he tries to lay a hand on her, she’ll fight him. 

“Your sister,” Iron Emmett said, “how old is …”

‘By now she’d be eleven,’ Jon thought. Still a child.  
“I have no sister. Only brothers. Only you.” 

Lady Catelyn would have rejoiced to hear those words, he knew. That did not make them easier to say. His fingers closed around the parchment. Would that they could crush Ramsay Bolton’s throat as easily. Clydas cleared his throat. 

“Will there be an answer?” Jon shook his head and walked away. 

By nightfall the bruises that Rattleshirt had given him had turned purple. 

“They’ll go yellow before they fade away,” he told Mormont’s raven. “I’ll look as sallow as the Lord of Bones.” 

“Bones,“ the bird agreed. “Bones, bones.” 

He could hear the faint murmur of voices coming from outside, although the sound was too weak to make out words. They sound a thousand leagues away. It was Lady Melisandre and her followers at their nightfire.  
Every night at dusk the red woman led her followers in their twilight prayer, asking her red god to see them through the dark. For the night is dark and full of terrors.

With Stannis and most of the queen’s men gone, her flock was much diminished; half a hundred of the free folk up from Mole’s Town, the handful of guards the king had left her, perhaps a dozen black brothers who had taken her red god for their own. 

Jon felt as stiff as a man of sixty years. Dark dreams, he thought, and guilt. His thoughts kept returning to Arya. 

There is no way I can help her. I put all kin aside when I said my words. If one of my men told me his sister was in peril, I would tell him that was no concern of his. Once a man had said the words his blood was black. Black as a bastard’s heart.

He’d had Mikken make a sword for Arya once, a bravo’s blade, made small to fit her hand. 

Needle.

He wondered if she still had it.  
‘Stick them with the pointy end,’ he’d told her, but if she tried to stick the Bastard, it could mean her life. 

“Snow,” muttered Lord Mormont’s raven. “Snow, Snow.”

Suddenly he could not suffer it a moment longer. He found Ghost outside his door, gnawing on the bone of an ox to get at the marrow. 

“When did you get back?” The direwolf got to his feet, abandoning the bone to come padding after Jon. Mully and Kegs stood inside the doors, leaning on their spears. 

“A cruel cold out there, m’lord,” warned Mully through his tangled orange beard. “Will you be out long?” 

“No. I just need a breath of air.” Jon stepped out into the night. The sky was full of stars, and the wind was gusting along the Wall. 

Even the moon looked cold; there were goosebumps all across its face. 

Then the first gust caught him, slicing through his layers of wool and leather to set his teeth to chattering. He stalked across the yard, into the teeth of that wind. His cloak flapped loudly from his shoulders. Ghost came after. 

Where am I even going? What am I doing?  
Castle Black was still and silent, its halls and towers dark. My seat, Jon Snow reflected. My hall, my home, my command. A ruin. In the shadow of the Wall, the direwolf brushed up against his fingers. For half a heartbeat the night came alive with a thousand smells, and Jon Snow heard the crackle of the crust breaking on a patch of old snow. 

Someone was behind him, he realized suddenly. Someone who smelled warm as a summer day. When he turned he saw Ygritte. She stood beneath the scorched stones of the Lord Commander’s Tower, cloaked in darkness and in memory. 

The light of the moon was in her hair, her red hair kissed by fire. When he saw that, Jon’s heart leapt into his mouth. “Ygritte,” he said.

“Lord Snow.”

The voice was Melisandre’s. Surprise made him recoil from her. 

“Lady Melisandre.” He took a step backwards. “I mistook you for someone else.”

At night all robes are grey. Yet suddenly hers were red. He did not understand how he could have taken her for Ygritte. She was taller, thinner, older, though the moonlight washed years from her face. Mist rose from her nostrils, and from pale hands naked to the night.

“You will freeze your fingers off,” Jon warned. 

“If that is the will of R’hllor. Night’s powers cannot touch one whose heart is bathed in god’s holy fire.

“You heart does not concern me. Just your hands.” 

“The heart is all that matters. Do not despair, Lord Snow. Despair is a weapon of the enemy, whose name may not be spoken. Your sister is not lost to you.” 

“I have no sister.” The words were knives. What do you know of my heart, priestess? What do you know of my sister? 

Melisandre seemed amused. “What is her name, this little sister that you do not have?” 

“Arya.” His voice was hoarse. “My half-sister, truly…” 

“… for you are bastard born. I had not forgotten. I have seen your sister in my fires, fleeing from this marriage they have made for her. Coming here, to you. A girl in grey on a dying horse, I have seen it plain as day. It has not happened yet, but it will.” She gazed at Ghost. 

“May I touch your… wolf?” 

The thought made Jon uneasy. “Best not.” 

“He will not harm me. You call him Ghost, yes?”

“Yes, but …” 

“Ghost.” 

Melisandre made the word a song. The direwolf padded toward her. Wary, he stalked about her in a circle, sniffing. When she held out her hand he smelled that too, then shoved his nose against her fingers. 

Jon let out a white breath. “He is not always so…” 

“… warm? Warmth calls to warmth, Jon Snow.”

Her eyes were two red stars, shining in the dark. At her throat, her ruby gleamed, a third eye glowing brighter than the others. Jon had seen Ghost’s eyes blazing red the same way, when they caught the light just right. 

“Ghost, ” he called. “To me.” The direwolf looked at him as if he were a stranger. 

Jon frowned in disbelief. “That’s … queer.” 

“You think so?” She knelt and scratched Ghost behind his ear. “Your Wall is a queer place, but there is power here, if you will use it. Power in you, and in this beast. You resist it, and that is your mistake. Embrace it. Use it.” 

I am not a wolf, he thought. 

“And how would I do that?” 

“I can show you.” Melisandre draped one slender arm over Ghost, and the direwolf licked her face. “The Lord of Light in his wisdom made us male and female, two parts of a greater whole. In our joining there is power. Power to make life. Power to make light. Power to cast shadows.” 

“Shadows?” The world seemed darker when he said it. 

“Every man who walks the earth casts a shadow on the world. Some are thin and weak, others long and dark. You should look behind you, Lord Snow. The moon has kissed you and etched your shadow upon the ice twenty feet tall.” Jon glanced over his shoulder.

The shadow was there, just as she had said, etched in moonlight against the Wall. A girl in grey on a dying horse, he thought. Coming here, to you. Arya. He turned back to the red priest-ess. Jon could feel her warmth. She has power. The thought came unbidden, seizing him with iron teeth, but this was not a woman he cared to be indebted to, not even for his little sister. 

“Dalla told me something once. Val’s sister, Mance Rayder’s wife. She said that sorcery was a sword without a hilt. There is no safe way to grasp it.” 

“A wise woman.” Melisandre rose, her red robes stirring in the wind. “A sword without a hilt is still a sword, though, and a sword is a fine thing to have when foes are all about. Hear me now, Jon Snow. Nine crows flew into the white wood to find your foes for you. Three of them are dead. They have not died yet, but their death is out there waiting for them, and they ride to meet it. You sent them forth to be your eyes in the darkness, but they will be eyeless when they return to you. I have seen their pale dead faces in my flames. Empty sockets, weeping blood.” She pushed her red hair back, and her red eyes shone. 

“You do not believe me. You will. The cost of that belief will be three lives. A small price to pay for wisdom, some might say… but not one you had to pay. Remember that when you behold the blind and ravaged faces of your dead. And come that day, take my hand.” 

The mist rose from her pale flesh, and for a moment it seemed as if pale, sorcerous flames were playing about her fingers. “Take my hand,” she said again, “and let us save your sister and end the war in the North.”

“End the war? What do you mean?” 

“You and I both know where the real war lies Jon Snow, you and I both know that we cannot win this war if Westeros still wages war against itself. Stannis is not only the prince that was promised but he is also the one true king. He needs the North to able to defeat the usurpers in the south.” 

The priestess explained as she took small tentative steps towards him, “I wish to help my promised prince and you wish to save your sister from this marriage. We can help each other. You and I can help the ones we both hold dear. We can kill the Boltons.”

Kill the boltons? How? As much as he wanted to, he couldn’t just leave Castle Black and ride for Winterfell, he’ll be traitor and oath breaker, besides the Night’s Watch took no part in the politics of the seven Kingdoms.

Is this more nonsense of her lord of light? Is that what she wanted from him 

“I’m not sacrificing or burning anyone for your god” he responded in a cold tone

His words seemed to amuse her for she gave him a small smile which for some reason made the hair on his back stand.

“There would be no sacrifices, no flames” she reassured

“Then how?”

“You’ve already forgotten what we’ve discussed Jon Snow?”

What?

They were discussing her god who gives people the power to create life, light and shadows…  
Shadows…

“You want me to cast a shadow?” he asked, his voice to unable to conceal the distain he held for such a thing. He felt sick just thinking about it.

Melisandre laugh at his reaction which really made him even more annoyed, “Tell me Jon Snow, Is it more righteous to go to war with the boltons where thousands will die than using a shadow to kill one man? Is it more honorable to kill thousands in a field of battle than killing a few of them at a wedding? You’re smart man Jon snow, I trust you understand that sometimes we do not choose the weapons we are afforded, sometimes we don’t choose the paths we have laid out for us but we’d be fools to not to use them anyway. Such is life. We can save your sister, we can help King Stannis, come Jon Snow and we’ll-

“No!” he cut her off harshly, he didn’t like where this conversation was headed and he was also afraid that if she kept talking, she might manage to convince him.

“No my lady, I will do no such thing. Good night.” He spoke in finality as he turned away from her and motioning for Ghost to follow who thankfully obeyed.

“Your stubbornness doesn’t help anyone you know, you’d rather keep your illusions of honor than help your sister-

“I’d rather not dance with your red god” he spoke in a threatening tone, how dare she accuse him of forsaking his own sister. 

“Be that as it may, the Bolton bastard will inflict unimaginable harm to your sister, he will break her and leave unmentionable scars on her before you see her again.”

‘Arya will never let that happen’ he wanted to say, he wanted refute her claims, to tell her that his little sister was a fighter and she would never allow anyone to touch her if she didn’t want it but the words died on his lips.

Sure enough, he has heard all the rumors of Ramsey Bolton, of what he did to Lady Donella Hornwood and how he treats his victims. Jon desperately wants to believe that Arya will not be abused by this Ramsey but he knows is his heart of hearts that won’t be the case.

You know nothing, Jon Snow.

His burnt hand flexes instinctively, having the sudden urge to kill something. 

“Goodnight my lady” he mutters through gritted teeth as walks with purpose to the training yard hoping that none of his brothers will be foolish enough to challenge him to a duel.

\--------------------------------------------------------

It’s been 2 days since he’s hard that conversation with the Lady Melisandre and Jon snow has been in a foul mood ever since. He was so prickly that even his best friend was wary of him.

Any hopes of Arya’s impending wedding being nothing but false rumors was quickly squashed by Stannis who sent a raven to confirm the news.

Jon pissed in darkness, filling his chamber pot as the Old Bear’s raven muttered complaints. The wolf dreams had been growing stronger, and he found himself remembering them even when awake. 

‘Ghost knows that Grey Wind is dead.’ 

Robb had died at the Twins, betrayed by men he’d believed his friends, and his wolf had perished with him. Bran and Rickon had been murdered too, beheaded at the behest of Theon Greyjoy, who had once been their lord father’s ward … but if dreams did not lie, their direwolves had escaped. At Queenscrown, one had come out of the darkness to save Jon’s life. 

‘Summer, it had to be. His fur was grey, and Shaggydog is black.’ 

He wondered if some part of his dead brothers lived on inside their wolves but quickly pushed the thought away as it brought him nothing but more pain.

His father killed on the executioner’s bloke on false charges of being a traitor, his sister Sansa now a hostage forcefully married to the imp and now Arya…

His little sister…

They were both outcasts of the Stark  
household. While Jon got along well enough with Bran, his father and especially Robb, his status as a bastard and a constant reminder of his father’s infidelity kept his relationship with Lady Catelyn distant and cold, thus this relationship extended to Sansa who followed her mother’s behavior. But for Arya, his beloved little sister grew up resenting the image of a good highborn lady that she was supposed to grow up to be, and was thus bullied and mocked for it by her own sister and her friends.

Arya was rough, tumble, rebellious, explorative and adventurous, the very opposite of what she was supposed to be as a highborn lady of a great house. 

But even more than that, Arya was the one who had a complete disregard for society’s standings. She judged people for what they did and not their names or status, she made friends with anybody she could, be it farmboys, taverners, bakers, mummers, low-borns and highborns. Despite her age, she was the only own who saw the unfairness of judging people by their status.

Even Robb, who was his best friend had never once acknowledged the injustice of judging by people’s social standing, he never questioned it, it was almost like he had already accepted that it was how the world is. 

It was only natural that Arya was he’s favorite sibling, the two of them could always be themselves around each other and understand each other more than anyone of their siblings.  
At certain times, she was the only one who made him feel worthy and wanted in a world where his name dictated that he wasn’t.

And now she was in the hands of a deranged psychopath who would hurt her more than he could possibly imagine. 

No matter how much he wanted to go to Winterfell and rip out Ramsey’s throat with his bare hands, he knew that he couldn’t, any public action he would take to help Arya would be perceived as oath-breaking and that would be enough reason to have his head separated from his body.

Now more than ever Jon Snow cursed his own stupidity for not accepting Stannis’ offer for a legitimization, he would have been halfway to Winterfell with an army behind his back by now.

You know nothing Jon Snow.

He let out a frustrated groan at that, his mind reminding him of the lady Melisandre’s offer;  
“We can help them both, take my hand and I’ll show you”

The way she said that filled him with so much anxiety and trepidation that he instantly refused her. He knew that it would involve her god in some way but he wasn’t sure how.

For all of the love he had for his little sister, he wasn’t going to start burning people alive or participate in some blood magic to save her.  
He needed to talk to the red priestess again and see if he could help with his sister without performing some abominable act. 

MELLISANDRE

It was never truly dark in Melisandre’s chambers. Three tallow candles burned upon her windowsill to keep the terrors of the night at bay. Four more flickered beside her bed, two to either side. In the hearth a fire was kept burning day and night.

The first lesson those who would serve her had to learn was that the fire must never, ever be allowed to go out. The red priestess closed her eyes and said a prayer, then opened them once more to face the hearthfire. 

One more time. She had to be certain. Many a priest and priestess before her had been brought down by false visions, by seeing what they wished to see instead of what the Lord of Light had sent. Stannis was marching south into peril, the king who carried the fate of the world upon his shoulders, Azor Ahai reborn. 

Surely R’hllor would vouchsafe her a glimpse of what awaited him. ‘Show me Stannis, Lord’, she prayed. ‘Show me your king, your instrument.’

Visions danced before her, gold and scarlet, flickering, forming and melting and dissolving into one another, shapes strange and terrifying and seductive. She saw the eyeless faces again, staring out at her from sockets weeping blood. 

Then the towers by the sea, crumbling as the dark tide came sweeping over them, rising from the depths. Shadows in the shape of skulls, skulls that turned to mist, bodies locked together in lust, writhing and rolling and clawing. Through curtains of fire great winged shadows wheeled against a hard blue sky.

‘The girl. I must find the girl again, the grey girl on the dying horse’. Jon Snow would expect that of her, and soon. It would not be enough to say the girl would flee. He would want more, he would want the ‘when and where’, and she did not have that for him. She had seen the girl only once. A girl as grey as ash, and even as I watched she crumbled and blew away.

A face took shape within the hearth. ‘Stannis?’ she thought, for just a moment … but no, these were not his features. A wooden face, corpse white. 

‘Was this the enemy?’ 

A thousand red eyes floated in the rising flames.

‘He sees me’. Beside him, a boy with a wolf’s face threw back his head and howled.

The red priestess shuddered. Blood trickled down her thigh, black and smoking. The fire was inside her, an agony, an ecstasy, filling her, searing her, transforming her. Shimmers of heat traced patterns on her skin, insistent as a lover’s hand. Strange voices called to her from days long past. 

“Melony,” she heard a woman cry. A man’s voice called, “Lot Seven.” She was weeping, and her tears were flame. And still she drank it in.  
Snowflakes swirled from a dark sky and ashes rose to meet them, the grey and the white whirling around each other as flaming arrows arced above a wooden wall and dead things shambled silent through the cold, beneath a great grey cliff where fires burned inside a hundred caves. 

Then the wind rose and the white mist came sweeping in, impossibly cold, and one by one the fires went out.

Afterward only the skulls remained.

‘Death’, thought Melisandre. ‘The skulls are death.’

The flames crackled softly, and in their crackling she heard the whispered name ‘Jon Snow’. His long face floated before her, limned in tongues of red and orange, appearing and disappearing again, a shadow half-seen behind a fluttering curtain. Now he was a man, now a wolf, now a man again. But the skulls were here as well, the skulls were all around him. Melisandre had seen his danger before, had tried to warn the boy of it. 

Enemies all around him, daggers in the dark. He would not listen.

Unbelievers never listened until it was too late.

“What do you see, my lady?” the boy asked, softly

.  
Skulls. A thousand skulls, and the bastard boy again. Jon Snow.

Whenever she was asked what she saw within her fires, Melisandre would answer, “Much and more,” but seeing was never as simple as those words suggested. It was an art, and like all arts it demanded mastery, discipline, study. Pain. 

That too. R’hllor spoke to his chosen ones through blessed fire, in a language of ash and cinder and twisting flame that only a god could truly grasp. Melisandre had practiced her art for years beyond count, and she had paid the price.

There was no one, even in her order, who had her skill at seeing the secrets half-revealed and half-concealed within the sacred flames.  
Yet now she could not even seem to find her king. ‘I pray for a glimpse of Azor Ahai, and R’hllor shows me only Snow.’ 

“Devan”, she called, “a drink.” 

Her throat was raw and parched.

“Yes, my lady.” The boy poured her a cup of water from the stone jug by the window and brought it to her.

“Thank you.” Melisandre took a sip, swallowed, and gave the boy a smile. That made him blush. The boy was half in love with her, she knew. ‘He fears me, he wants me, and he worships me.’

All the same, Devan was not pleased to be here.

The lad had taken great pride in serving as a king’s squire, and it had wounded him when Stannis commanded him to remain at Castle Black. Like any boy his age, his head was full of dreams of glory; no doubt he had been picturing the prowess he would display at Deepwood Motte.

Other boys his age had gone south, to serve as squires to the king’s knights and ride into battle at their side. Devan’s exclusion must have seemed a rebuke, a punishment for some failure on his part, or perhaps for some failure of his father.

In truth, he was here because Melisandre had asked for him. The four eldest sons of Davos Seaworth had perished in the battle on the Blackwater, when the king’s fleet had been consumed by green fire.

Devan was the fifth born and safer here with her than at the king’s side. Lord Davos would not thank her for it, no more than the boy himself, but it seemed to her that Seaworth had suffered enough grief. Misguided as he was, his loyalty to Stannis could not be doubted. She had seen that in her flames.

Devan was quick and smart and able too, which was more than could be said about most of her attendants. Stannis had left a dozen of his men behind to serve her when he marched south, but most of them were useless. His Grace had need of every sword, so all he could spare were grey-beards and cripples. One man had been blinded by a blow to his head in the battle by the Wall, another lamed when his falling horse crushed his legs. Her sergeant had lost an arm to a giant’s club. Three of her guard were geldings that Stannis had castrated for raping wildling women. She had two drunkards and a craven too. The last should have been hanged, as the king himself admitted, but he came from a noble family, and his father and brothers had been stalwart from the first.

Having guards about her would no doubt help keep the black brothers properly respectful, the red priestess knew, but none of the men that Stannis had given her were like to be much help should she find herself in peril. It made no matter. Melisandre of Asshai did not fear for herself. R’hllor would protect her.

She took another sip of water, laid her cup aside, blinked and stretched and rose from her chair, her muscles sore and stiff. After gazing into the flames so long, it took her a few moments to adjust to the dimness. Her eyes were dry and tired, but if she rubbed them, it would only make them worse.

Her fire had burned low, she saw. “Devan, more wood. What hour is it?”

“Almost dawn, my lady.”

‘Dawn. Another day is given us, R’hllor be praised. The terrors of the night recede.’ 

Melisandre had spent the night in her chair by the fire, as she often did. With Stannis gone, her bed saw little use. She had no time for sleep, with the weight of the world upon her shoulders. And she feared to dream. Sleep is a little death, dreams the whisperings of the Other, who would drag us all into his eternal night. She would sooner sit bathed in the ruddy glow of her red lord’s blessed flames, her cheeks flushed by the wash of heat as if by a lover’s kisses. Some nights she drowsed, but never for more than an hour. One day, Melisandre prayed, she would not sleep at all. One day she would be free of dreams. 

‘Melony’, she thought. Lot Seven.

Devan fed fresh logs to the fire until the flames leapt up again, fierce and furious, driving the shadows back into the corners of the room, devouring all her unwanted dreams. The dark recedes again … for a little while. But beyond the Wall, the enemy grows stronger, and should he win the dawn will never come again. She wondered if it had been his face that she had seen, staring out at her from the flames.

No. Surely not. His visage would be more frightening than that, cold and black and too terrible for any man to gaze upon and live. The wooden man she had glimpsed, though, and the boy with the wolf’s face … they were his servants, surely … his champions, as Stannis was hers.

Melisandre went to her window, pushed open the shutters. Outside the east had just begun to lighten, and the stars of morning still hung in a pitch-black sky. Castle Black was already beginning to stir as men in black cloaks made their way across the yard to break their fast with bowls of porridge before they relieved their brothers atop the Wall. A few snowflakes drifted by the open window, floating on the wind.

“Does my lady wish to break her fast?” asked Devan.

Food. Yes, I should eat. Some days she forgot. R’hllor provided her with all the nourishment her body needed, but that was something best concealed from mortal men.

It was JON SNOW she needed, not fried bread and bacon, but it was no use sending Devan to the lord commander. He would not come to her summons. Snow still chose to dwell behind the armory, in a pair of modest rooms previously occupied by the Watch’s late blacksmith. 

Perhaps he did not think himself worthy of the King’s Tower, or perhaps he did not care. That was his mistake, the false humility of youth that is itself a sort of pride. It was never wise for a ruler to eschew the trappings of power, for power itself flows in no small measure from such trappings.

The boy was not entirely naive, however. He knew better than to come to Melisandre’s chambers like a supplicant, insisting she come to him instead should she have need of words with him. And oft as not, when she did come, he would keep her waiting or refuse to see her. That much, at least, was shrewd.

“I will have nettle tea, a boiled egg, and bread with butter. Fresh bread, if you please, not fried. You may find the wildling as well. Tell him that I must speak with him.”

“Rattleshirt, my lady?”

“And quickly.”

While the boy was gone, Melisandre washed herself and changed her robes. Her sleeves were full of hidden pockets, and she checked them carefully as she did every morning to make certain all her powders were in place. 

Powders to turn fire green or blue or silver, powders to make a flame roar and hiss and leap up higher than a man is tall, powders to make smoke. A smoke for truth, a smoke for lust, a smoke for fear, and the thick black smoke that could kill a man outright. The red priestess armed herself with a pinch of each of them.  
The carved chest that she had brought across the narrow sea was more than three-quarters empty now. And while Melisandre had the knowledge to make more powders, she lacked many rare ingredients. My spells should suffice. She was stronger at the Wall, stronger even than in Asshai.

Her every word and gesture was more potent, and she could do things that she had never done before. Such shadows as I bring forth here will be terrible, and no creature of the dark will stand before them. With such sorceries at her command, she should soon have no more need of the feeble tricks of alchemists and pyromancers.

She shut the chest, turned the lock, and hid the key inside her skirts in another secret pocket. Then came a rapping at her door. Her one-armed serjeant, from the tremulous sound of his knock. “Lady Melisandre, the Lord o’ Bones-“

He broke off at the sound of a warhorn and rose swiftly to his feet. All over Castle Black, Melisandre knew, the same sudden hush had fallen, and every man and boy turned toward the Wall, listening, waiting. One long blast of the horn meant rangers returning, but two …

‘The day has come’, the red priestess thought. ‘Lord Snow will have to listen to me now.’

After the long mournful cry of the horn had faded away, the silence seemed to stretch out to an hour. The wildling finally broke the spell. 

“Only one, then. Rangers.”

“Dead rangers.” Melisandre rose to her feet as well. “I will return.”

“I should go with you.”

“Do not be foolish. Once they find what they will find, the sight of any wildling will inflame them. Stay here until their blood has time to cool.”

Devan was coming up the steps of the King’s Tower as Melisandre made her descent, flanked by two of the guards Stannis had left her. The boy was carrying her half-forgotten breakfast on a tray. “I waited for Hobb to pull the fresh loaves from the ovens, my lady. The bread’s still hot.”

“Leave it in my chambers.” The wildling would eat it, like as not.

“Lord Snow has need of me, beyond the Wall.” He does not know it yet, but soon …

Outside, a light snow had begun to fall. A crowd of crows had gathered around the gate by the time Melisandre and her escort arrived, but they made way for the red priestess. The lord commander had preceded her through the ice, accompanied by Bowen Marsh and twenty spearmen. Snow had also sent a dozen archers to the top of the Wall, should any foes be hidden in the nearby woods. The guards on the gate were not queen’s men, but they passed her all the same.

It was cold and dark beneath the ice, in the narrow tunnel that crooked and slithered through the Wall. Morgan went before her with a torch and Merrel came behind her with an axe. Both men were hopeless drunkards, but they were sober at this hour of the morning. Queen’s men, at least in name, both had a healthy fear of her, and Merrel could be formidable when he was not drunk. She would have no need of them today, but Melisandre made it a point to keep a pair of guards about her everywhere she went. It sent a certain message. The trappings of power.

By the time the three of them emerged north of the Wall the snow was falling steadily. A ragged blanket of white covered the torn and tortured earth that stretched from the Wall to the edge of the haunted forest. Jon Snow and his black brothers were gathered around three spears, some twenty yards away.

The spears were eight feet long and made of ash. The one on the left had a slight crook, but the other two were smooth and straight. At the top of each was impaled a severed head. Their beards were full of ice, and the falling snow had given them white hoods. Where their eyes had been, only empty sockets remained, black and bloody holes that stared down in silent accusation.

“Who were they?” Melisandre asked the crows. 

“Black Jack Bulwer, Hairy Hal, and Garth Greyfeather,” Bowen Marsh said solemnly. “The ground is half-frozen. It must have taken the wildlings half the night to drive the spears so deep. They could still be close. Watching us.” 

The Lord Steward squinted at the line of trees.  
“Could be a hundred of them out there,” said the black brother with the dour face. “Could be a thousand.”

“No,” said Jon Snow. “They left their gifts in the black of night, then ran.” His huge white direwolf prowled around the shafts, sniffing, then lifted his leg and pissed on the spear that held the head of Black Jack Bulwer.

“Ghost would have their scent if they were still out there.”

“I hope the Weeper burned the bodies,” said the dour man, the one called Dolorous Edd. “Elsewise they might come looking for their heads.”

Jon Snow grasped the spear that bore Garth Greyfeather’s head and wrenched it violently from the ground. “Pull down the other two,” he commanded, and four of the crows hurried to obey.

Bowen Marsh’s cheeks were red with cold. “We should never have sent out rangers.”

“This is not the time and place to pick at that wound. Not here, my lord. Not now.” To the men struggling with the spears Snow said, “Take the heads and burn them. Leave nothing but bare bone.”

Only then did he seem to notice Melisandre. “My lady. Walk with me, if you would.”

At last. “If it please the lord commander.”  
As they walked beneath the Wall, she slipped her arm through his.

Morgan and Merrel went before them, Ghost came prowling at their heels. The priestess did not speak, but she slowed her pace deliberately, and where she walked the ice began to drip. He will not fail to notice that.

Beneath the iron grating of a murder hole Snow broke the silence, as she had known he would. “What of the other six?”

“I have not seen them,” Melisandre said.

“Will you look?”

“Of course, my lord.”

“We’ve had a raven from Ser Denys Mallister at the Shadow Tower,” Jon Snow told her. “His men have seen fires in the mountains on the far side of the Gorge. Wildlings massing, Ser Denys believes. He thinks they are going to try to force the Bridge of Skulls again.”

“Some may.” Could the skulls in her vision have signified this bridge? Somehow Melisandre did not think so. “If it comes, that attack will be no more than a diversion. I saw towers by the sea, submerged beneath a black and bloody tide. That is where the heaviest blow will fall.”

“Eastwatch?”

Was it? Melisandre had seen Eastwatch-by-the-Sea with King Stannis. That was where His Grace left Queen Selyse and their daughter Shireen when he assembled his knights for the march to Castle Black. The towers in her fire had been different, but that was oft the way with visions. “Yes. Eastwatch, my lord.”

“When?”

She spread her hands. “On the morrow. In a moon’s turn. In a year. And it may be that if you act, you may avert what I have seen entirely.” 

Else what would be the point of visions?

“Good,” said Snow.

The crowd of crows beyond the gate had swollen to two score by the time they emerged from beneath the Wall. The men pressed close about them. Melisandre knew a few by name: the cook Three-Finger Hobb, Mully with his greasy orange hair, the dim-witted boy called Owen the Oaf, the drunkard Septon Celladar.

“Is it true, m’lord?” said Three-Finger Hobb. 

“Who is it?” asked Owen the Oaf. “Not Dywen, is it?”

“Nor Garth,” said the queen’s man she knew as Alf of Runnymudd, one of the first to exchange his seven false gods for the truth of R’hllor. 

“Garth’s too clever for them wildlings.”

“How many?” Mully asked.

“Three,” Jon told them. “Black Jack, Hairy Hal, and Garth.”

Alf of Runnymudd let out a howl loud enough to wake sleepers in the Shadow Tower. “Put him to bed and get some mulled wine into him,” Jon told Three-Finger Hobb.

“My lady,” he said quietly looking at Melisandre. 

“may I please have a private word with you?”

He looked at her face for a long moment with those cold grey eyes of his. His right hand closed, opened, closed again signifying his nervousness and immediately Melisandre knew what he wanted to talk to her about… 

“As you wish my lord” she responded, suppressing her own smile. 

“Edd, take Ghost back to my chambers.”

Melisandre took that as a sign and dismissed her own guard as well. They crossed the yard together, just the two of them. The snow fell all around them. She walked as close to Jon Snow as she dared, close enough to feel the mistrust pouring off him like a black fog. ‘He does not love me, will never love me, but he will make use of me. Well and good.’

Melisandre had danced the same dance with Stannis Baratheon, back in the beginning. In truth, the young lord commander and her king had more in common than either one would ever be willing to admit. Stannis had been a younger son living in the shadow of his elder brother, just as Jon Snow, bastard born, had always been eclipsed by his trueborn sibling, the fallen hero men had called the Young Wolf. Both men were unbelievers by nature, mistrustful, suspicious. The only gods they truly worshiped were honor and duty.

“You wish to ask of your sister” she said deliberately intertwining their fingers as they walked.

“Last time we talked… you uh… said something about helping Arya and Stannis, about casting… shadows” the lord commander said, he could barely hide the discomfort from his normally stoic face. 

“Yes, I did, you and I can make that possible my lord, we can save your sister from the horror that awaits her, we can save the North from further needless warfare.” Her tone was all neutral but she could feel the excitement roaring in her blood.

“How? What exactly do I have to do?”

“Union, my lord.” She answered with a small smile, “As I said last time, our union as male and female is all that is required of you and I shall do the rest” 

Jon sucked in a breath, staring at her with bewilderment and awe, he honestly would have never expected to find himself in such a position and the fact that he was even considering it reminded him of how desperate he was to save his little sister.

This was oathbreaking.

This was Sorcery. 

This was disgraceful.

And this was all for Arya.

“Alright, I’ll do it,” he said, trying very hard to ignore the victorious smile on Melisandre’s face.

“I’ll come to your chambers at midnight” he said and walked away from her, not once looking back.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Night came faster than Jon had anticipated or wanted for that matter. He was nervous, scared and most of all, he was filled with guilt and shame of what he was about to do.

He had already broken his oaths with Ygritte, so laying with the red priestess wasn’t the actual problem. It was the fact he would be doing it in the stronghold of the very order he had freely joined, he would be fucking Melisandre right under everyone’s noses.

He wondered what Lord Commander Mormont would say if he saw him now…

Disrespecting the night’s watch when he should be leading by example.

Not only that but he would be participating in blood magic, fucking a red foreign witch in order create demonic shadows

.  
What would his father think of him?

Jon quickly pushed that thought away before it made him change his mind entirely.

‘This is for Arya, this is for Arya’ he whispered the words in his heard like a mantra before quietly knocking on Melisandre’s door.

He noticed that none of her guards or followers were guarding her door, something he was thankful for. 

As soon as she opened the door, Jon wanted to tuck tail and run, the feeling of foreboding and anxiety making him want to call the whole thing off. 

Jon scanned her from head to toe, gaze lingering longer at her breasts, the shape barely hidden through the fitted red robe she wore and then he stopped where he imagined he’d find a red thatched of hair, at the juncture of her legs .the red priestess stared back at him, unashamed and wanton. She wordlessly opened the door wider for him and turned, Jon Snow following her mutely. 

By the time she was locking the door, Jon was pouring himself some ale from the pitcher that sat at the table. He pressed the cup to his lips and downed it all before slamming the cup on the table.

“You need to calm yourself Jon Snow” she purred eyeing him with a sultry smile, “I know that you’re only doing this to save your sister but there’s no reason for you not to enjoy this.”

“Enjoying it is what I’m worried about” the lord commander grumbled as he brought his full attention to her, watching her as she slid her gown from her shoulders, all the while fumbling for the clasp to unhook the front of her dress until finally her robes dropped to the floor and wreathed around her feet. 

She smirked, standing proud and unashamed before him, very much enjoying how his dark gaze slithered over every part of her, her breasts and belly, her rounded hips, and finally her cunt.

He swallowed visibly, his voice thick and catching in his throat, “Alright then…” he said, walking towards her, “let’s get on with it”  
Jon took her in his arms, feeling her fair skin against his hands and kissed her, taking her in hungrily.

His mouth was upon her and he was too, his hands at her hips and waist and face, taking in the beauty that stood before him. Her skin was so hot, so unnaturally hot. He wondered if it was part of the magic but quickly pushed that thought away.

Melisandre's arms wrapped around him, her hands at the back of his neck pulling him away for a moment but Jon was upon her again, this time his mouth upon her skin, drinking in all that she was. Her mouth, her jaw, her throat, her collarbone; anything that he could get his hands on.

His hands grew greedy for her skin, grabbing at her hips and dragging her against him, holding her firm there. His mouth mapped the fragile beauty of her face, kissing at her elegant cheekbones and the dimples of her skin.

Melisandre grabbed at his tunic, pulling at the loose material and ridding him of the clothing, her hands urgent. Her touch was mesmerizing, it was unlike anything he has ever experienced, not even Ygritte left him so breathless. Her nails gently tracing at his powerful body, the muscle of his abs and his broad, strong shoulders, leaving Jon to gasp into her skin. 

Jon shucked off his top quickly, urgent for her touch, before his hands returned to her.

Jon could not wait to take ahold of her there, stroking the delicate skin between his fingers and delighting in the soft moans that filled the air.

His mouth dipped down, taking a nipple into her mouth, kissing there, his hands than falling down to her full ass, grabbing it with strong hands and taking it for himself.

Melisandre moaned, sending lightning down the spine of Jon Snow, as she worked at his throat, sucking light marks into the skin there. He pressed his throbbing cock against her core, his want unmistakable.

She grinned into his neck, her lips moving to the shell of his ear. Her hand lowered to his cock, stroking through his breeches. Jon was nearly blind at the sensation of her squeezing at his length.

He felt one hand loosening the knot that held his breeches up, the other still working him while Jon’s finger brushed against her center, groaning at the slick wetness he found there.

Jon's finger skimmed against the top of her pussy, against her swollen clit, and Melisandre moaned. Jon did it again and again and again, the moans he earned only making his cock throb harder which, with deftness, Melisandre had removed from his restricting clothes and began stroking in her small, soft hands.

The feeling was otherworldly; nothing truly did compare to this, a formidable pressure beginning to build at the base of his length, growing from there into the pit of his stomach and swarming his chest.

Then all of the sudden, she stood back up, turned around and bent over at the waist, reaching between her legs and spreading her pussy lips with the fingers of her right hand. It was drenched and she stuck a finger in, getting it good and wet and spreading her juices from her labia to her asshole.

"Go ahead…" she said, sounding desperate, "put it in me."

Without wasting any time, Jon moved forward and positioned the head of his dick at her entrance, moving it up and down a little bit to lubricate it. She whimpered in anticipation, thinking he was purposely teasing her but she gasped loudly when he thrust forward, burying his shaft entirely in her dripping snatch up to the hilt.

When he entered her, he felt heat spread throughout his body instantly. Jon felt hot to the bone; it stemmed from his cock and traveled through his body, He felt the flames of the fire beside them like tiny beasts, they licked and caressed his skin. Her cunt was so hot that he was almost afraid that it might boil his cock.

Melisandre moaned so loudly that he had to cover her mouth with his hand to prevent anyone from hearing them.

“You must be quiet my lady, we don’t need anyone hearing us” Jon said in a hushed whisper though she barely paid any attention to him.

Of all the years she has lived in this world, Melisandre of Asshai has never felt so much power in her life. Not even Stannis, who was the lord’s chosen gave off this kind of power.

She could feel the culmination of Ice and Fire, a being formed by great bloodlines; the blood of old Valyria and the blood of winter kings of old.

‘How could it be?’ she wondered to herself as he ground his hips against her ass cheeks, rotating his cock deep inside of her and she moaned, trying to pull out so that he could slam into her but his hands clamped down on her hips, holding her in place.

He moved in and out – tantalizingly slow, letting her savor every inch of his cock like sipping on a glass of sweet summer-wine. Every time he went back in he used a different angle, hitting parts deep inside of her that hadn't been touched in years. Occasionally he'd give her a good, hard thrust – something to break up the monotony and keep her on her toes – literally. Because it raised her off the ground, and she made a little high pitched squeal whenever he did it.

Melisandre was heating up quickly. Sweat was gathering along her spine and soon began dripping down her back, pooling in the little hollow above her ass cheeks before finally dripping down the sides. The pace he was setting was pure torture to her – she wanted him pounding her hard and fast with reckless abandon, but it seemed he was more interested in drawing it out.

But she wasn't. And he needed to understand that. Right now.

She slammed her hips backwards onto his dick, sheathing him inside her to hilt.

Another quick thrust backwards, this one making Jon readjust his footing so he didn't lose any leverage.

A third thrust backwards – this one hard enough so that he finally got the hint. The bruised pelvic bone she gave him helped make up his mind as well. He grabbed her hips and slammed his dick into her snatch, making her cry out in pleasure as he quickly picked up the pace, thrusting into her faster and harder with every second that passed. 

Her moans were getting louder and longer, bad enough that he thought her guards might break down her door and see what’s happening. And so he quickly picked up his gloves, folded him and shoved them in her mouth as a make-shift gag. 

He picked up the pace again, thrusting faster and faster into her. Her pussy was dripping like a leaky cup now, and every time he plunged into her depths her juices splashed all over his cock, balls and the crotch of his pants. Every smack of his hips against her ass cheeks sounded like a wet cloth hitting the floor because she was so drenched, and Melisandre kept moaning around the gloves.

He was so close to Cumming now. He could hear the impact of their coupling and felt his sack slapping against Melisandre’s clit. Just a few more thrusts and… Melisandre’s walls grew even tighter around him, her entire body seeming to shudder as a series of high-pitched moans announced her climax. 

Her spasming cunt was too much for Jon to withstand his hips forced his throbbing cock as deep as it could go, with one, two, three thrusts, his seed filling her beautiful pussy. Jon saw white, the entire world melting away. For that moment, there was nothing but their own orgasms, his mind's eye blind to everything but the great release that he felt. There was only the white, blissful expanse of his mind's eye.

He stayed still for a moment before pulling out of her and sitting at the edge of her bed to catch his breath, both of them panting and shinning with sweat.

He was about to reach for his clothes before Melisandre reached for him, kneeling between his legs as she took his cock in hand.

She stared at him with curiosity and awe as she slowly stroked him, her red eyes pulsing in conjunction with the ruby on her neck. 

This was an exhilarating yet strange experience for her, with Stannis, she had taken his life fires and cast a shadow that killed her king’s enemies. Two shadows was all Stannis could handle before his life energy was almost completely weakened, with Jon Snow however, she felt completely enriched with so much power, her normally warm body felt like a furnace, so hot yet so light, in short she felt so otherworldly, like a whole new entity. Stannis’s fire could never compare to this… 

‘The things I could do with this much power’ she thought to herself as she took him in her mouth.

Jon Snow moaned, as his eyes rolled up in the back of his head from Melisandre sucking on him. She's pretty fucking good at this. It almost feels like she's strangling my cock with the suction from her mouth. He cracked an eye open and watched as her head bobbed up and down, turning to the side a few times to change the angle, which also changed the sensation because his cock was rubbing up against different parts of her mouth. At the same her tongue was licking him clockwise over the head of his dick and down his shaft, while keeping up the pressure as she sucked him off.

She stopped and pulled away, and his cock came out of her mouth with an audibly loud POP. She coughed a few times, trying to clear her throat from Jon almost choking her by shoving his dick down her throat, and her chest heaved as she tried to catch her breath.

Before long, his cock was in her mouth again. This time she didn't suck but drooled all over it, her saliva running down the shaft and onto his balls, making them even slicker. Drips at first, and then lines of spit hung off of his sack and fell onto the floor.

"Fuck…" He groaned, his moans mixed with the sounds of sucking and slurping as Melisandre’s gorged on his cock, savoring the experience she was unleashing on him. 

"Mmmhmmm," she mumbled, agreeing with him while her head moved faster and faster, her lips sliding teasingly down the shaft and over the head, shoving his cock back down her throat until it touched the back and she almost choked again. She gagged but didn't pull it out of her mouth, instead deciding to be submissive and run her tongue over the rim. She rubbed the top of the head and then flicked the underside, teasing him in ways even Ygritte hadn't done.

"I'm gonna come," he said as he felt himself getting close. "Fuck… here it comes"

Melisandre deep throated him one last time as he came, and her cheeks puffed out from the amount of seed that filled her mouth however she swallowed it. After one last gulp she pulled his cock out and fell back, gasping for air, her face and chest flushed red from exertion and excitement and her ruby pulsing even brighter than before, the entire room illuminating the red color of its brightness. 

“Will that… will that be enough my lady?” he asked after a few moments of catching his breath.

The smile she gave him was unlike anything he’s ever seen from her, almost like she’s finally found something she’s looking for all her life in him.

“Yes, my prince that will sufficient” she said

‘Prince?’ he didn’t know what she was talking about but chose not to comment on it as he quickly dressed himself and left with a second glance.

A week later, two ravens, one from Stannis and the other from Winterfell, reached Castle Black informing them of the death of Roose Bolton and his bastard son Ramsey Snow, the cause of death… one great demonic shadow that slaughtered anyone in its path.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shadow babies, anyone? Anyone? No?
> 
> Okay then, next is maybe dany or sansa or missandei, I might even surprise you with an Ellia or even fem- Joffery chapter.


	4. Sexual healing (Jon/Missandei)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When the Queen's away, the king will...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted a Jon/Missandei fic but i also wanted to change some of the things that annoyed me in Season 7. hope you enjoy and please excuse the errors, I'll fix them as soon as possible.

Dragonstone was built to intimidate. Even from a distance, it looked cold, menacing, untouchable. The only decorum in the place came in the form of dragon motifs displayed throughout the fortress. The old Valyrian stonemasons that had built the castle held pride in Valyria’s dragons but even then, it was more of a display of power than anything else. There is an ever-present chill to the place, not at all what Jon Snow expected when imagining the legendary castle of Targeryan Kings of old, then again, Winter was here, maybe the coldness was the result of the changing weather…

Jon stared at the jet-black stone castle, wondering what kind of reception they would get from its occupant. As Jon watched, he saw another three large dragons come into view, circling the keep and his mind went back to the encounter with the white walkers hoping that the Dragon Queen would believe him.

An hour later, Jon and Davos along with Ghost made their way to shore, having docked The White Wolf a little offshore. As they grew closer to the shore, Jon saw two figures make their way down from the small village. One of them Jon could recognize even at this distance.

As they disembarked, Tyrion Lannister walked towards them, smiling broadly across a heavily scarred face.

‘The Bastard of Winterfell’, Tyrion announced joyfully.

‘Imp of Casterly Rock’ Jon replied with a small smile, he walked up to Tyrion and shook his hand. “It is good to you too, Lannister,” he said then cocked his head to the Onion knight “This is Lord Davos Seaworth, my advisor”

Tyrion stepped past Jon to shake the other man’s hands, giving Jon a better look at his damaged face.

“It seems like you have seen some battle since we last met.”

“Ah yes, it seems we’ve both seen our fair share battles since we last saw each other” he replied, indicating his scarred face dismissively and pointed at Jon’s own scar across his eye. “And it seems we’ve both survived”

“So it seems”

Before anything else could be said, Ghost decided to make his presence known making some of the Dothraki to step back in fear. The massive direwolf walked up to Jon and stood in front of him as it faced the queen’s men. Ever since his death, it had become more and more protective of him, usually trailing him and only parting from him at night when it went out to hunt.

He simply laid a hand on his most loyal companion to come him down. 

The hand of the queen eyed Ghost warily before politely asking him and his men to relinquish their weapons, something he was not keen on doing but did not bother arguing against. He watched as the Dothraki took their weapons, their chests filled with clothes but before they could take the box away, he quickly told Tyrion that it possessed a gift for the Dragon queen and he would appreciate it if they helped his men carry it to her.

When he was finally led into the great hall, the first thing he noticed was the ethereal beauty of Daenerys Targeryan, perched on her rocky throne with a commanding presence. He had so many times of the famed Targeryan beauty but he never truly expected her to be so stunning.

Right next to her was who he assumed to her other advisor, another beauty with smooth, golden skin that was framed by curly hair, crimped tightly together. Two beautiful eyes that stared back at him with wonder and awe though as soon as their eyes met, she looked away though he could still spot the faint blush adorning her cheeks.

Then her eyes widened as she spotted the giant dire wolf behind him, despite its scary appearance I was quite possibly the most beautiful she ever seen. It was bigger than a pony and just as tall if not taller than her. Its white fur and red glowing eyes gave it a majestic appearance that Daenerys’ dragons could not match.

Before Jon could do anything to stop it, Ghost quickly padded up to the queen’s beautiful advisor, ignoring the Dothraki and Unsullied warriors that raised their weapons to protect their queen. The dire wolf simply walked straight to the increasingly frightened young woman and lowered his head to her.

Jon would have called Ghost back to him, but words were stuck in his throat as he observed the wolf’s strange behavior. Ghost has never acted like this to anyone at all, much less a stranger.

He watched as a frightful look passed upon the woman’s face but upon his look of encouragement, she slowly lowered her hand onto Ghost’s fur, she was cautious at first but soon let out giggled when Ghost licked her neck.

The sound and look of joy on her face was so disarming that Jon couldn’t help but to give a small smile himself.

“I’m sorry about that” he told her before calling the direwolf back to him.

“It’s quiet alright, he beautiful” she said in return, her voice as lovely as he had expected, “What’s his name?”

“Ghost” 

“Well its lovely to meet you Ghost” she said, giving him one last pat before the wolf padded back to him.

he was about to reprimand it before realizing that everyone else in the room was staring at them in astonishment, even the Dragon Queen’s cold façade had cracked in favor of staring at him and the wolf curiously. 

Though it only lasted for a second before Tyrion cleared his throat and everything went back to normal.

Missandei cleared her throat as well and announced to all present, “ You stand in the presence of Daenerys Storm born of house Targeryan, rightful heir to the Iron throne, rightful queen of the andals and the first men, protector of the realm, the mother of Dragons, the Khalessi of the great grass sea, the Unburnt, the breaker of chains.”

‘Mother of dragons? unburnt? Khalessi? Seven hells, how can anyone possibly remember all those bloody titles?’ Jon couldn’t help but think to himself. A part of him wanted to roll his eyes at her and another part of him was quiet impressed that she had managed to acquire all those titles for herself.

Briefly he wondered how Ser Davos would introduce him but that got shot out the window when the aged man simply introduced him as “Jon Snow, He’s King in the North”  
It sounded to comically pathetic compared to all her titles that he almost laughed. Almost.

‘You couldn’t have added some titles to it old man?’ he thought to himself in amusement, ‘the undead, no, the resurrected, no, maybe ‘the got sick of dying came back for round two’

He was immediately brought out of his thoughts when the dragon queen’s voice pierced the silence;

“Thank you for traveling so far, my lord” she said. “I hope the seas weren’t too rough.”

“The winds were kind,” Lord Snow responds in a deep gruff though he frowned at the term ‘Lord’.

His advisor interjects. “Apologies, I have a Fleabottom accent, I know. But Jon Snow is King in the North, he’s not a lord.”

Upon Tyrion introducing him as Ser Davos Seaworth, Daenerys says, “Forgive me, Ser Davos. I never did receive a proper education but I could have sworn I read that the last King in the North was Torrhen Stark, who bent the knee to my ancestor, Aegon Targeryan and swore fealty toward House Targaryen in perpetuity.” She knows she is correct, but she asks, “Or do I have my facts wrong?” just so her words leave their desired sting.

The pair look uneasy now, shifting from foot to foot.

“So I assume, my lord, you are here to bend the knee.”

‘She is a smug one, isn’t she’ He pauses and looks to the floor; even before he says it, she can tell he is a stubborn man. “I am not.”

Nevertheless, she is taken aback by the simplicity of his outright defiance. “Oh. Well, that is unfortunate. You have traveled all this way to break faith with House Targaryen?”

‘The nerve of this woman’ just then all form of meekness had left his voice as it was replaced by a tone of steel.

“Break faith?” he quotes her and he could feel his temper rising, “You know, despite my status as a bastard I was fortunate enough to get a formal education and yes, I can confirm that Torren Stark did bend the knee to Aegon Targeryan in perpetuity”

He can tell that his words had pleased her by the look of smugness on her features.

“But what you so conveniently forget, your grace, is that when Torren Stark bent the knee to Aegon, your ancestor promised to honor the North. That as long as the Starks remained loyal, the Targeryen would protect and honor them as loyal bannermen. But if we go back to history, you’ll find that Aegon the unlikely sent food to the north during a long winter and his lords almost rebelled, Cregan Stark answered the call of Aegon the third when your house was threatening to destroy itself during the Dance, he fought for your house and removed the corruption from both sides of the war and all he got were promises that remains unfulfilled to this day. And then 22 years ago, your father decided to burn my grandfather and my uncle alive for his own personal amusement and your brother decided to kidnap my aunt. So who is it exactly here that ‘broke faith’?” he finished with a barely withheld sneer

‘Yes, choke that up’ he thought as he looked on Daenerys’ expression, she looked taken aback and a bit sheepish at his knowledge of Stark and Targeryan history.

“And the last king in the North was Robb Stark who was chosen by his people after yet another southern ruler decided to mistreat and dishonor the North” he said looking at her with a challenging glint in his eye. He didn’t like the idea of Robb being forgotten when he fought so hard for the freedom of his people.

“My father was an evil man. On behalf of House Targaryen, I ask for your forgiveness for the crimes he committed against your family.” And she did, he could tell that she really did mean it. “I ask you not to judge a daughter for the sins of her father”

“You’re right, you’re not your father and I’m not going to judge you by the actions of your parents or self I wouldn’t be here” he tells her truthfully and he can tell that she appreciates that by the grateful look in her eye.

But still, it feels like they would be going in circles when she offers to name him Warden of the North, yet he still refuses.

“Then why are you here?” Daenerys demands with a frustrated huff.

“Because I need your help, and you need mine.”

He could tell that she was trying very hard not to scoff at him “Did you see the Dothraki, all of whom have sworn to fight for me? And did you see the three dragons flying overhead?”

“They’re hard to miss.”

“But still, I need your help…?”

“Not to defeat Cersei. You could storm King's Landing tomorrow and the city would fall but you haven’t stormed King’s Landing. Why not? The only reason I can see is you don’t want to kill thousands of innocent people. It’s the fastest way to win the war but you won’t do it… which means, at the very least, you’re better than Cersei.”

“That doesn’t explain why I need your help.”

“I’ve brought you a gift, your grace” Jon gestured to the back of the hall where several of his men came forward carrying a crate.

“There is a darkness beyond the Wall that threatens to destroy the north, the south, the Seven Kingdoms, the entire land of the living,” Jon said, addressing everyone that was present “An enemy that doesn’t care about who sits the Iron Throne or who has what claim, the army of the dead.”

“The Army of the dead?” Daenerys asks incredulously, looking at him like he was a fool. Not that he could blame her, it is difficult to believe unless you’ve seen the threat yourself.  
Jon looked toward Tyrion and said, “My lord, you’ve known me for only a short while but do you think I’m a madman or a liar?”

“No, I don’t think that” Tyrion said truthfully.

“All those tales you’ve ever heard as a child are real. The army of the dead is real. The white walkers are real. The Night King is real! I’ve seen them. I’ve fought them!” Jon said, desperate for Daenerys to believe him. “We can’t afford a meaningless war between ourselves when the real enemy lies north of the wall”.

There was a moment of silence until Jon took a step forward but the Dothraki also made movements towards him which halted him. He looked down at Ghost and knew what he would do if it came down to it though he really hoped that wouldn’t be the case.

“I was born at Dragonstone” Daenerys began as she got up and began walking towards him, every step taken as if to emphasize her point. “We fled before the usurpers assassins could find us. I’ve spent my whole life in foreign lands. I was sold off like a broodmare by my own brother who would’ve let forty thousand Dothraki rape me just so he could get an army’.

Jon was shocked by her words wondering to himself just how anyone could be cruel and heartless to the own family. 

“I’ve been chained and betrayed, raped and defiled. Do you know what kept me going in all those years I was away from my home?” she said bitterly. “Faith. Not in Gods or legends but in me. Faith in Daenerys Targaryen. We hadn’t seen a dragon in centuries until my children were born” Daenerys stepped forward so she was within arm’s length of Jon.  
‘The Dothraki had never crossed the sea, any sea, but they did for me!’ she said harshly. Her eyes showed the fire and passion behind her words and her face conveyed anger at Jon. ”I was born to rule the seven kingdoms and I will” 

“I respect that, you know, despite everything I think anyone who has accomplished even half of what you have deserves respect especially taking into account that you’re a woman and this world of ours is not very kind to women” he said truthfully. For a brief moment he thought of Sansa and what she had suffered at the hands of Ramsey; beaten, raped and tortured and even though she had freed herself from the sadistic bastard’s clutches, he could see just how much it still affected her. And here another woman stood before him who had apparently suffered the same things Sansa had, perhaps even more.

“But even though I wasn’t there to witness it, one thing I do know your grace, is that you didn’t earn the trust and fealty of the Dothraki or Unsullied or even your advisors by simply being ‘Daenerys Targeryan’, you earned their trust, their loyalty and their love. And yet here you are telling me that the North is yours to rule. A place you’ve never been, people you’ve never met and a culture you know nothing about and we’re to bow and be subservient to you because you have a name… The lords of the North pledged their trust in me and I will continue to lead them to the best of my ability and no offence your grace but I don’t know you” he finished with steel in his tone, at this point he really didn’t care if she was angry with him or not, she was asking something of him when she had basically done nothing to earn his loyalty.

“That’s fair.” She conceded with a frown, “It’s also fair to point out that I’m the rightful Queen” 

“Yes and besides our war with my sister has already begun. You can’t expect us to drop it and head north to fight your mythical army of the dead’ Tyrion implored.

“Do you even have proof for this… army of the dead?” the Dragon Queen asks with skepticism. The stubbornness of this man was really grating on her nerves and yet… she couldn’t help but be intrigued by him, none of her Westerosi allies thus far have asked for her to prove herself to them, they simply came to her because of her power and their desire for vengeance and yet this ‘king in the North’ who has more reason than her to kill Cersei comes to her to ask for an alliance against an enemy that apparently posed a threat to everyone in Westeros.

“I do” he says with a small smile, what kind of fool would he be if he tried to convince a person he’s never met that a mythical enemy is coming them all without having some sort of proof? “if you would please give my men some space” he said gesturing for her to move back to her throne. 

Jon’s men made a space in the middle of the Great Hall, keeping Daenerys’ guards back from the crate. They weren’t prepared for this. Jon had brought the corpse of Ser Alliser with him, it was a good thing he had ordered Edd not to burn the traitors’ bodies after hanging them because it had only been a couple of days later that Ser Alliser along with the other four traitors had turned into wights. 

He had used the other three corpses to convince the Northern Lords and the Vale army about the coming threat and he was declared King in turn, he didn’t ask for it but still accepted it and it made it easier to reclaim Winterfell from the Boltons, between the Vale army, the Northern forces and Wildlings, the Bolton bastard stood no chance, his own men had killed him and offered Rickon Stark alive in exchange for being spared. 

Jon gestured for one of his’ men to flip the crate open, and out came what Daenerys could only describe as a monster. It lunged out of the crate, shrieking and barreling towards her, rotted skin peeled off its bones and tendons, It was a moving, writhing corpse, and several of her guards and Missandei screamed. Daenerys couldn’t stop herself from jumping back as the creature lunged towards the throne, before being yanked back by the chains that held it.

It was the most horrifying thing she has ever seen in her life, not even the stories of the evil usurpers her brother used to tell her terrified her this much. Even the normally talkative Tyrion was shocked into silence, his face pale with fear and shock. 

As panic and disbelief filled the hall, Jon stood stoic, staring the creature down, letting the reality of the coming war sink into the Dragon Queen’s mind. One of his soldiers stepped forward and hacked the Wight in half. It didn’t stop the beast, which fell to the floor and began crawling towards her with its hands. The severed body writhed on the floor.

“Only fire can kill them,” Jon said to them. “But Dragonglass and Valyrian steel can kill the Others.”

One of his men had light up a torch and burned the lower half of the still-struggling Wight while Jon had picked up the upper half and stabbed it with a Dragonglass dagger and it immediately seized its struggle. 

Tyrion let out a breath, as did many in the hall. It was real. He knew it was, he had believed Jon and Daenerys, but seeing it right here on Dragonstone—everything that they had said about the threat was real.

“The war of the dawn is real, the white walkers are real, and the night king is real and his coming for all of us. And once he crosses the wall, it won’t matter whose corpse sits on the Iron throne or who has what claim. Winter has come, your grace and the dead come with it. ” Jon speaks in a grim tone, his eyes reflecting the plea and desperation for her to believe him. 

Before anything else can be said, Varys makes his presence known and whispers something into his queen’s ears, something that obviously displeases her by the look on her face.  
Her earlier look of terror is immediately replaced by her Queenly mask as she looks at him and says out loud, “You must forgive my manners. You must be all tired after your long journey. We’ll have baths drawn for you and supper sent to your rooms. We shall continue this meeting at a later time, my lords.”

LINE BREAK

Standing on the cliffs, Jon gazed across the sea wondering again if coming to meet this Dragon Queen had been a mistake. He had hoped that after seeing the corpse of Alliser Thorne, she and her council would realize the threat they were all facing and that she would at least consider his words. And yet… here he was practically a prisoner on this island after they had taken his ship and weapons. 

Only the presence of Ghost calmed him a bit even though he had yet to see his quiet companion since waking up that morning, for a moment he was afraid that it had caused some trouble and it was harmed in some way but seeing as no one had yet to come to him complain, he simply put it off to his dire wolf needing fresh air or wanting to hunt.

He saw a small figure coming down to the path towards him and turned away, his sight back on the ocean. He was really not in the mood to deal with Tyrion’s talkativeness right now so unless the man wanted to talk about what he’d shown them yesterday, he’d rather spend the day alone.

“I came down here to brood over my failure to predict the Greyjoy attack. You’re making it difficult. You look a lot better brooding than I do. You make me feel like I’m failing at brooding over failing,” Tyrion informed him.

“I’m a prisoner on this island,” Jon stated sullenly. This much was plain.

“I wouldn’t say you’re a prisoner on this island. You’re free to walk the castle, the beaches, to go wherever you want.”

“Except my ship. You took my ship.”

“I wouldn’t say we took your ship.”

The conversation was annoying him and he said as much. Tyrion lobbed his complaints back at him and Jon only grew more frustrated. He needed to get off the island if he was to help his people. He didn’t have time for this queen’s useless war.

“It’s hard for me to fathom, it really is!” he exclaimed. ”I’ve showed you that corpse, I’ve brought proof of the impending war and yet here we are going around in circles” 

“People’s minds aren’t made for problems that large Jon Snow. White Walkers, the Night King and the army of the dead. It’s almost a relief to confront a comfortable, familiar monster like my sister. I’ve always been a practical person, despite the fact that I follow a queen who hatched three dragons and walked out of a fire unscathed, but what I saw yesterday… it was unlike anything I could ever imagine. Perhaps my mind is still trying to adjust to it”

“Yes well, while you’re here trying to get your minds to adjust, every minute that passes, that army is moving closer to the wall” Jon said feeling even more frustrated than the day before. “I need to prepare my people for what’s coming, I can’t do it from… I’d like to leave.” failing like this left a bitter taste in his mouth, but these people were not going to listen to him then he might as well go back and help his people.

“Come now Jon Snow” the Dwarf spoke in a placating tone that really annoyed him, “I doubt you become King in the North by giving up so easily”

“And luckily for all of us, Children are not their fathers.” Tyrion noted wisely. “And Daenerys is a great ruler and an even better person, If there’s anyone out there who could ‘break the wheel’, its her” 

He would have snorted at Tyrion’s obvious attempt at getting him to bend the knee to her but he’s curiosity got the best the him and so he asked;

“Break the wheel?”

“Breaking the ever constant wheel of the highborn crushing the lowborn” the Lannister says simply and this time cant help the snort that comes out of him

“Oh aye? And telling the North that they have no right to choose a leader for themselves, that they are to bow and follow her because she’s ‘Daenerys Targeryan’ is a good way of going about it, isn’t it m’lord?” he responds sarcastically enjoying the grimace that crosses Tyrion’s face despite himself.

He was being unfair, he knew that. He didn’t want to judge her so soon after meeting her but his frustrations were getting the better of him.

“Alright I do admit that our first meeting did not as well as I would have liked but my still stands, sometimes there’s more to foreign invaders and Northern fools than meets the eye.”

Jon eyed him with suspicion but Tyrion went on to defend Daenerys and the people who followed her 

“While you’re our guest here, you might consider asking them what they think of the Mad King’s daughter. She protects people from monsters. Just as you do. It’s why she came here. Give her a chance, she might end up surprising you” 

While the little lord made sense, Jon still wasn’t interested in being anyone’s guest or prisoner.

“So do you have anything reasonable to ask?”

“Dragonglass." He answers immediately, though after seeing Tyrion’s bewildered stare he explains further, ““Its obsidian, a type of volcanic glass hidden in the caves of Dragonstone. We can forge weapons from it to aid us in this approaching war as you saw yesterday”

“Good. I will take this request to our Queen immediately” Tyrion said before he started to walk away though he didn’t reach far before Jon stopped him.

“I apologize if I’m intruding M’lord but why are you the one making war strategies for your queen?” he asked remembering the reason why Tyrion was here in the first place.

“I’m her hand” Tyrion responds with a raised eye brow.

“Yes but you’re not a military man or war general. Reading about battles and wars isn’t the same as actually participating in one” he pointed out.

“Well I organized and led the defense of King’s Landing against Stannis’ forces” the Lannister tried to defend himself.

“Yes, and from what Sansa told me, you would have all died if it wasn’t your father and the Tyrells coming to help you.” Jon responded in return, not bothering to hide the smirk to Tyrion’s scowling face.

A couple of minutes passed in complete silence with Tyrion scratching his beard as he considered Jon’s point obviously trying to come up with some clever plan.

“Perhaps there’s a way we can help one another” the hand of the queen finally said.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you need our support and the Queen’s Dragons in the fight against the dead and as you so eloquently put it, I’m no war general, which means we need one. And I’d like to believe you one if the stories about you are true”

“I… have some experience” Jon says in a sullen tone trying to will away all the memories of his past battles. It was true though, while he might not have as much experience as he’s father or Robb who both fought a full-blown war, he’d like to think that he’s experience in defending the wall against wildlings, Hardhome, Taking out some Bolton loyalists and ridding the North of the remaining Iron-born would atleast amount to something.

“Right and while we would like to help you in your fight, we would also be fools to leave Cersei in power while we fight the dead, that even you can atleast agree with Jon Snow” Tyrion says with a challenging look and as much as he hates to admit he realizes that that the short man has a point. He doesn’t see the Lannister queen helping them even if her life depended on it.

“I see your point” he finally admits.

“So you see, if we’re to have a proper chance against this Night king and the army of the dead then uniting Westeros, the whole of Westeros is the best way of going about it. And that means removing my sister from power and placing the Seven kingdoms under one banner of unity and strength.” Tyrion finishes with a smug grin, obviously happy with himself.

“I’ll help you” Jon speaks after a few moments of contemplation, “But I’m not promising to bend the knee.”

LINE BREAK

When Jon entered the war room with Tyrion and Ser Davos, he wasn’t surprised to find the Dragon Queen there discussing strategy with her advisors around the painted table, what he was surprised to find though was Ghost standing next to the woman he remembers as ‘Missandei’ who had her hand in the dire wolf’s fur. For the second since he came the islands Jon couldn’t help but wonder what made his companion so affectionate to her. 

It was baffling as hell.

The only person Ghost had taken such a liking to was Sam and that was due to their close relationship, but Missandei? He had barely said two sentences to her.

“Your grace” he greets the Queen with nod who answers with a ‘m’lord’ as she regards him with curiosity.

“And you…” he looks at the dire wolf with an accusatory glance as it comes paddling to him, “have you abandoned me for a pretty face?” he asks as he scratches behind the dire wolf’s ear trying to ignore the blush that adorned Naathian’s cheeks.

He finally looks at her and speaks in an embarrassed tone, “My Lady, he seems to have taken a liking to you. I’m sorry if he’s being bothersome”

“Oh no, it’s fine, I actually enjoy his company” she responds with a shy smile though the blush was still there and she was avoiding eye contact with him. Daenerys watched this strange interaction with an amused glint in her eye. She didn’t know what to make of the Dire wolf’s strange fondness for her best friend but it was quiet amusing seeing how Missandei reacted to Jon Snow’s presence.

Not a second later, Tyrion clears his throat and addresses the room” Seeing as we are planning a war, it was pointed out to me by our guest that while I’m good with politics, I’m not exactly a military man or a war general” she could tell just how much it irked Tyrion to admit such but she was still appreciative that he was atleast willing to accept his own weaknesses, she had once thought of making Grey Worm her master of war but he had no knowledge of how to form a valid strategy on the strange land of Westeros and so she had relented and placed her trust in Tyrion.

“The only one here who has some insight into how to fight one, more than any of us here is Jon Snow and his Advisor. It is my hope that he can help us form a valid strategy and thus make a positive step toward a more productive relation with possible allies” Tyrion says hoping his queen will approve.

After a reluctant nod from her, Tyrion proceeds to relay their previous strategy to him and with a very plan the Lannister brings out, he can’t help but frown. A quick look at Davos only confirms how he feels about this strategy.

The Queen had apparently caught on to the look on his face as she quickly asks what he thinks about it.

“It’s not a bad strategy” he says carefully not wanting to come off as rude or disrespectful, “It’s just too… politically influenced” 

“Politically influenced? Is that your way of saying it’s a shit plan Jon Snow?” Daenerys asks with a teasing smile and help but smile sheepishly in return.

“Not at all, it’s just… I feel you’re going about it the wrong way” he bluntly states making Tyrion frown not too happy at being criticized.

“Please explain”

“Well before I say anything I want to know why you haven’t hit King’s landing yet, you have three Dragons and you know that your enemy is in the Red Keep, why not use them? It is after all the fastest way to end the war” he asks looking directly at her. The grey of his eyes peering into her soul, for a moment she felt like she was stripped bare by this man.

He was testing her, she knew, he was trying to find out what kind of person she was, how power hungry she was. Daenerys didn’t how she felt about that but she still answered because after all it was a legitimate question.

“I aim to be a different type of Queen, a Queen that will leave this world a better place than I found it and I’m not going to do that by burning castles to the ground. That doesn’t make me different, it doesn’t make me better, and it just means that I’m more of the same” she responds, her answer resolute as she regards him with the same fire in her eyes that he saw the day before.

The staring contest lasts a couple of seconds before Jon finally nods his approval and sets his eyes on the painted table, “So about this plan… well obviously you want to win this war, but it seems you want to look good while doing it. This plan is designed to make you look like saviors and bring the small folk on your side. Which is its biggest flaw” he states and before anyone else can say anything about it Ser Davos backs him up;

“Yes as he’s grace has stated, for all intents and purposes, you are a foreigner coming to overthrow the current monarchy. Regardless of your intentions, you bring war to the people to do the doorstep of people who have already suffered their fair share of chaos and misery within the past few years. Those people know nothing about you other than what Cersei will tell them. In other words they have no reason to flock to you or to love you much less now when you bring a war that they will suffer the most from while the nobility are in the safety of their own castles. The only way to win their love to by ending this war quickly and letting them see you as a good ruler and not a conqueror.”

Daenerys couldn’t help but smile at the Onion knight’s words, from what Varys had told her about him, he was not an educated man but she could see why Jon Snow and even Stannis valued his advice. He was blunt but also truthful and wise. She’d rather have that than having someone who coated their words in honey and gave empty compliments.

“Continue please” she says giving them an encouraging nod.

“You’re only looking at this from your own points of view instead of Cersei’s as well”, he didn’t have to wait for them to ask what they meant before he continued,

“From the letter you sent me you said that you had Reach, the Iron islands and Dorne on your side yes?” he looks to Tyrion who gives him a nod before continuing, “All powerful allies that would under any circumstance give you an insurmountable advantage in this war, But this is what I or Cersei would see…”

He points at the region of the Reach as he addresses them, “The Tyrells are all gone, the only one remaining is Lady Olenna and she’s only a Tyrell by marriage and she’s way past the age of giving birth to any birth to any heirs. How sure are you that the ambitious houses of the Reach will follow an extinct house? What would stop them from turning on Lady Olenna with enough backing from Cersei and claim the Reach for themselves? The Florents have always felt that they are the rightful rulers of the Reach, house Tarly are an ambitious house especially under Randall Tarly, the Hightowers are also a rich, very powerful and highly ambitious house. What would stop any of them from turning on your Tyrell ally and claiming the Reach for themselves?” he let them all absorb this information before Ser Davos continued on the same track.

“The same goes for Dorne, from what we heard, Prince Oberyn’s paramour and her daughters had the ruling Prince and his heir killed. Hey may be allied to you but that doesn’t change the fact that they did the same thing the Freys and Boltons in Dorne. How happy are the Dornish houses with that? Even if they somehow support that decision to kill their liege, how sure are you that they accept Ellaria Sand as their new liege? The Yronwood are the second most powerful house in Dorne after the Martells, house Allyrion, house Blackmont or even house Dayne, any of these houses can use this as an opportunity take control of Dorne” the elderly spoke with the foresight of who a man who had served and learnt a great deal from the tactical mind of Stannis. 

”The Greyjoys are already in civil war and even worse, Yara and Theon have lost Pyke to their uncle and they have a smaller fleet. So all in all, you have two allies that are in danger of descending into a civil war if their bannermen are left unchecked and another who is already in a disadvantageous position. Cersei will not attack you directly, but you can be sure that she attack your allies and use every advantage she can think of” Jon Snow said letting everyone in the room absorb this information before giving any advice on how to fight this war.

He might not like Littlefinger but even he would still admit that man was useful in gathering information.

A quick look around the painted table had confirmed that most of them had not really thought much on this information, a variety of expressions easily read, and some well hidden though he wasn’t surprised that Varys was the hardest one to read.

“So my advice…” he started looking straight at Daenerys as he spoke, “Firstly and most importantly is protect your Tyrell ally, the Reach is your most valuable but also your most vulnerable ally. It’s the only Kingdom that has enough food to feed Westeros during winter and the only one that has enough money to challenge the Lannisters and those facts alone, it makes it the most likely Kingdom to be attacked first. If you are to send some of your Dothraki or even one of your Dragons if it’s possible to the Reach, it would deter any house that might have any ideas of betraying you and even provide support for the Tyrells. Secondly, send ravens to the Dornish houses, make sure that you have all of their support, if they prove to be troublesome, you could even take hostages to ensure their loyalty. Thirdly, attack Euron Greyjoy, he is Cersei’s biggest ally and the he’s large fleet is the only advantage Cersei has over you, take him out and it leaves her vulnerable on all sides.”

“With Euron gone and your allies firmly behind you, you could easily surround Cersei from the North, East, West and South” Davos gruffly stated as brought all pieces representing Daenerys allies on the painted table and had them surround King’s Landing in order to emphasize his point. “The siege or blockage of King’s Landing would work better that way.”  
None of them said anything after that, allowing Daenerys council to take in the information imparted on them. Though Jon was more interested in what the Dragon Queen would say, seeing as her expression was the hardest one to read, well her and Varys. Though if Jon had to guess it would be that the Queen was quiet annoyed with the oversight her council made in planning this war, they either ignored or did not deem there weaknesses to be important enough to address and that would have surely cost them dearly.

“I see” Daenerys said simply, giving her hand a chilling look whilst the Lannister for his part looked a bit abashed.

Sensing that the Queen’s council had a lot to talk about, Jon and Davos excused themselves before the Northern King called for his dire wolf.

“Come boy” he said to the wolf who came paddling towards him but not before giving the Queen’s beautiful some affectionate licks to her cheek. He would have apologized for his Dire wolf behavior but soon remembered that the Naathian did not mind and what it’s even more was that she was quiet determined to avoid eye contact with him, always looking at her feet or anywhere else when his eyes found hers.

Frowning slightly, Jon gave her a nod and walked out with Davos and Ghost at his heel.

LINE BREAK

The next morning Jon Snow had gone out to the battlement steps to watch the dragons flying overhead that he’d noticed Daenerys Targeryan out there alone doing the same, standing by one of the fire towers. Because of the fact that they had yet to continue their initial meeting, Jon was still unsure of where he stood with her or even if he was allowed to be this close to her without her guards but he still took a chance and approached her.

“Amazing thing to see” he said referring to the three dragons flying overhead.

She turned to face the King in the North as he stopped just a few steps from her. "I named them after my brothers, Viserys and Rhaegar. They're both gone now." She looked back at him, trying not to be as regal as she was when they first met. "You lost a brother as well?" He nodded quietly. "People thought dragons were gone forever yet here they are. Perhaps we should all be examining what we think we know."

That sounded like something a certain Lannister would say. The pleasantness in his face dimmed and became more of brooding expression. "You've been talking to Tyrion?" He stepped up right next to the railing, watching the dragons as he spoke.

"He is my Hand." 

"He enjoys talking." It didn't take a close friend of Tyrion's to know that. Only one meeting was enough.

"We all enjoy what we're good at."

Jon Snow's tone change into well hidden grimace thinking of the carnage and death he was capable of once let loose on the battlefield, "I don't." He said truthfully.

By the look on the Queen’s face, he could tell that she was not expecting him to say that. Perhaps it was disbelief or surprise, he was given much time to ponder it before she spoke; "You know I'm not going to let Cersei stay on the Iron Throne?"

“I wouldn’t have tried to help you if I expected that you would” he responded flatly

“I never did quiet thank you for that, did I?” she pondered more to herself than to him but continued talking before he could say anything. “I appreciate the help you and your advisor gave us Jon Snow, we had much to discuss last night”

“No problem” he said with a smile, well atleast they were cordial to one another. 

“And I’ve decided to heed your advice, in a few hours I’ll be going to the Reach with one of my dragons and some of the Dothraki and one of my advisors will be travelling to Dorne to rally them to my side.” She explained giving him a smile in return.

“And Euron Greyjoy?” he asked feeling curious at how they planned to deal with Iron born.

“I had wanted to look for him myself but my advisors discouraged me against it” her response came with a look of annoyance for her advisors. “They don’t know where he’s armada is located so we’re not sure where to start looking for him” 

“It can’t be too far from King’s Landing” he said after a few moments of deliberation, at her curious look he decided to expound

“Cersei’s seat of power is King’s Landing, once she loses it, she loses her crown and her power thus she will try by all means turn it into a fortress. It could mean that the Greyjoy fleet is not too far from her.” 

She looked at him for brief moment seemly considering his words and he could see something shift in her eyes. Her guarded looks were replaced with a humble gratefulness that amused and surprised him in equal measure. Perhaps the ‘Mother of Dragons’ did not expect to find herself in need of the Northern King’s help.

“I shall value your advice your grace” she said with an appreciate nod.

He had to do a double take to realize that she had just called him ‘your grace’ instead of the constant ‘my lord’. He’s surprise must have been so clear to her as he could easily spot the tiniest hint of a smirk on her beautiful face. He couldn’t help but grin back at her for that.

"I will allow you to mine the Dragonglass and forge weapons from it. Any resources or men you need, I will provide for you. When I reach the Reach, I will send food to the North and some men to help fortify the wall."

He seemed surprised, but also grateful that she had finally addressed his biggest concern. "Thank you." She nodded and turned back to watch her children, but Jon Snow lingered.

“I was curious…” he started feeling slightly a bit intrusive for his next question.

“Go on” she encouraged him with look.

“Why did you come to Westeros? I mean, I’ve heard the stories of what you did in Essos. Why leave? Especially to come here to a place where people may reject you. The people of Westeros sometimes do not know what is good for them even if it hit them on their faces.” He asked finally

That question has been bubbling in him ever since he first talked to her. He understood her desire to take back her family’s throne, he really did. But if he learned anything in his life being a bastard, it was that people were happier to stick to their prejudices than accept change, especially from someone who was basically a foreigner.

Already some lords spoke of her as nothing more than ‘the daughter of the mad king’ or ‘the foreign whore’. It seemed to Jon that perhaps staying where you were welcome and loved was the better option.

He finally realized that the Queen was going through the same thoughts as she let the silence linger for a moment before finally responding, “This is my home” she whispered with a bit of vulnerability that he never expected. “It is the home my ancestors built.” She said much louder this time with a firmness to her tone.

“Home, huh?” He deliberated with a sad smile his mind taking him to Winterfell and all his lost family. ”Home is not a place, your grace” he finally says, the melancholy and sorrow hitting him hard.

Home, it was a place he had searched for all his life and he was still yet to find. He had lived with Starks he first 17years of his life and even though they were family, they were still a lot of moments he felt like an outsider. A stain that was nothing more than a mistake to an honorable man’s reputation. That’s why he joined the Night’s Watch in the first place, to find a place he belonged. Even though the night’s watch wasn’t what he had initially thought it would be, he still endured and met some friends who made happy. Until he met Ygritte, that it. 

Being with the fiery spear-wife was the happiest Jon has ever remembered being, until he realized that he couldn’t be with her forever and forsake his duties. Living her behind had left a bitter taste in his mouth and even more so that he went back to a brotherhood that eyed him with nothing but suspicion and contempt, all traces of home gone.  
Going back to Winterfell was even worse. walking around the hallways and bed chambers that was once filled with laughter and life of his family. Knowing full well that he would never see them ever again no matter how much he wished it.

That was when Jon had finally realized that perhaps home was no specific place but it was the people who welcomed with a smile and open arms despite who you are or what you’ve done. The people who cared when no one else did.

When he had finally regained control of his thoughts, Jon soon realized that the Dragon Queen was looking at him curiously with the same sadness he usually had plastered on his own face.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry” he stated uneasily.

“No its okay” she said all too quickly with a hand on his arm.

The Dragons choose that moment to let their presence known for the green and black one roared overhead as they flew over the cliff and towards the water.

A comfortable silence reined as the two monarchs watched the Dragons play though he noticed that her hand never left his arm until Ghost came to him, presumably from his hunt as his mouth was dripping with blood.

The dire wolf first went to him for some pats before turning to Daenerys who scratched it behind the ear with a smile on her face.

“Tell me about the North Jon Snow.”

LINE BREAK

With Daenerys and Tyrion gone to the Reach and Varys to Dorne, Only Missandei remained of the queen’s advisor that he could converse with. For some reason, the Naathian reminded Jon of his younger self when he was still Winterfell under Robb’s shadow.

Just like him, a lot of people didn’t seem to notice Missandei when in the presence of Daenerys. It’s not the dragon queen’s beauty that overshadowed her but rather her allure.

Where Missandei choose to be in the shadows much like him, Daenerys’ presence shone like a light that couldn’t be ignored even if you tried. Where Missandei was reserved, Daenerys’ charm was there for all to see. Where Missandei was basically a nobody, Daenerys had the powerful name and a legacy that surpassed any other name in Westeros.

There’s was a relationship that was all too familiar for Jon as it was the same relationship he shared with Robb. And yet… just like him, Missandei shined once taken out of her cage. Jon had soon learned that she was quiet possibly one of the smartest people he’s ever met, and that was saying much considering that he’s lived with people like measter Luwin, Sam and measter Aemon. Her loyalty to the dragon queen was absolute and her kindness even more so. 

But what Jon Snow liked most about her was her smile, she didn’t do it often but when she did, it always caught his attention.

Joy tugged at the corner of her lips while dimples appeared below twinkling eyes.

He had soon found out that Daenerys’ departure, Ghost’s fondness for her brought her the most joy and so he let the dire wolf stay with for as long as she liked.

For days he had spent the days with her as she translated between the queen’s men and him. At night she would accompany him as he took Ghost for a walk. Despite her rather frustrating insistence to avoid eye contact with him, Jon was determined to know who the Naathian was.

LINE BREAK

Due to her Queen’s absence, Missandei found more time on her hands than she would have liked. Time to ponder on the Northern King more than necessary, more than appropriate. Even as she was taking her nightly soak in the bathhouse, she found herself thinking about the man who had occupied her thoughts, bordering on obsessive.

Since the first day she saw him in the hall room, her eyes were drawn to him like a moth to a flame. He was quiet comely, that fact was undeniable, even her queen thought so. But it was much more for her, since being taken into slavery, Missandei had grown a deep fear for men. No matter how sweet or kind they seemed their eyes always portrayed her true nature. They were cruel beings who took pride in the suffering of others and a lot of them took delight in the suffering of women. 

Her master Kraznys mo Naklos was no different, he took her to bed as many times as he desired and sometimes even had her and the other girls take part in some his sick salacious games for his own twisted amusement.

From the time she was freed, Missandei made sure to distance herself from all men. Even Grey Worm who her queen insisted that he had feelings for her. While she liked the unsullied soldier well enough, those feelings had never truly transformed to be romantic feelings.

But when Jon Snow’s eyes found hers she felt pinned down, he’s dark grey eyes boring into hers with such intensity that she found herself flustered in a way she’s never felt before, she could feel her face heating up and her heart beating wildly inside her chest. Those feelings were so unfamiliar and exciting to her that she found herself always looking away from him.

His Dire wolf, Ghost was also an entirely new entity to her, she’s never seen a beast so majestic yet tame, he’s fondness for her was unexpected yet welcome in so many ways. He brought a sense of calmness and security in her, like he would care for her and protect her from anything that might want to harm her. 

In a way, Ghost’s presence made her feel the opposite of what he’s master’s presence brought forth in her. Where he brought peace and calmness, Jon’s brought excitement and fluster. Where Ghost made her feel protected, Jon made feel exposed. 

Instead of fearing him or avoiding Jon Snow’s presence altogether, she felt herself yearning for his presence. Once at dinner when Daenerys had invited the king in the North to dine with them, she had found herself so captivated by him that Daenerys had to kick her beneath the table to stop her staring.

Her musings were interrupted when she heard a creak to the door of the bathhouse, she frowned lightly not knowing anyone who would come to bath at this time of day other than her queen.

Just to be on the safe side, she quickly ran towards the far side of the room forgetting her clothes in the process.

She was thankful that the little room she was in had no light in it, giving her an opportunity to poke her head out the door and see who it was that joined her and her eyes widened by its discovery.

Beautiful raven curls were let loose for the first time since she’s met him, his skin pale and his body looked like it had been sculptured from stone even as he quickly removed his clothes. 

He had a warrior’s build and face that maidens would swoon for and that ass, gods that ass, it was even better than hers.

“Gods, he's beautiful,' was the first thought that crossed her mind.

Her eyes followed his every movement as he removed his smallclothes and dipped into the hot water. But to her disappointment, she could only see upper part of his body from her vantage point.

'Life is all about patience,' a voice that sounded suspiciously like Tyrion echoed in her mind.

So, wait she did. The king spent some time cleaning his body and it gave her time to notice the scars on his, all over his chest and down his flat stomach, were vicious, ugly, half healed marks, marring the white skin with slashes of pink scabs.

‘Who could have done that to him?’ she gasped in horror, her heart beating wildly in concern and fear for him. Those were not normal scars and she wondered how he could have survived such a thing.

She didn’t much time ponder it though as Jon quickly immersed into the pool and emerged after a few seconds, his entire body wet as he continued his cleaning.

Missandei released a breath she didn't know she was holding. ‘What was that?’ her whole body was on fire and her heart was hammering in her chest. She felt something trickle down her thigh and her cunt pulsed in tune with her heart even as she watched what she obviously wasn’t supposed to. She knew what it meant. Her thoughts felt muddled up and she just couldn't turn away even if she wanted to. She wanted more. She needed more.

She leaned forward again, hoping to get a better view but Jon was once again submerged in the water, hiding his divine body from view.

She used the water obstructed her view to question why Jon Snow brought these out of her, why she reacted the way she did. She was stranger to desire, she saw every time a man looked at Daenerys but she just never thought she would feel the same way for someone who ironically had a lot in common with the dragon queen.

Ten minutes later, the king in the north finished his bath and suddenly stood up, with not even a strip of cloth on his body. Never in her life did she wish that she could be a drop of water. But now she did. His god-like form was covered in little droplets of water, which slid down his pale northern skin to land into the pool. He had strong arms and a kissable neck.

The scars on his chest did nothing to snuff his beauty, gods perhaps it even enhanced it. Showing his character in his physical features.

‘Even his cock is beautiful’ she thought as she greedily eyed the cock resting beneath a small thatch of dark curls. Heat surged up her body and a dark red flush crept up her cheeks- both sets of her cheeks. Her breathing quickened and her heart was trying to tear open a hole in his lungs.

She was about to use her fingers to sooth insistent pounding between her thighs before she Jon’s voice calling to her, “Are you just going to hide yourself for the rest of the night my lady?”

Oh no…

She could swear her heart stopped that moment. She didn’t know how she could possibly save herself from such embarrassment nor how she could apologize for spying on the king in the north when he was so blissfully unaware.

And yet, despite knowing full well that what she just did was wrong, Missandei couldn’t find it in herself to actually feel remorse.

So quickly deciding that hiding away was not going to save anyone, Missandei walked out to the pool as naked as she was, for once not feeling any trepidation at her lack of clothing in the presence of a man.

Upon seeing, Jon smiled before realizing that she was as naked as he was, he’s eyes lingered between her thighs for a moment bringing them to her face.  
“Dose my presence bother you my lady? I’m almo-

“It’s okay your grace, I just wasn’t expecting you, you can stay for as long as you like I don’t mind.” She respond with a slight hitch in her voice even she waded out into the pool, enjoying the feeling of the warm water as it wrapped around her skin and sank into her pores. She swam out into the deep end, stopping just a few feet from Jon and treading water herself.

A brief moment of awkward silence passed between them before Jon moved further way from her to the water edge and raised himself so that he could sit on the cool marble. His upper body was completely out of the pool but his legs were still submerged giving her an opportunity to closely inspect the scars on his chest.

She counted seven in total, all in varying sizes and shapes but the biggest one was the one on his heart that seemed to pulsate in tune with his heart.

Her blatant ogling was not lost on the king as she looked to his face, she found him giving her a teasing smirk as if to say ‘you’ve been caught again.’  
She was quick to apologize but Jon waved her off stating in a sly tone, “It’s okay my lady, you can look, I really don’t mind.” Jon’s soft eyes and friendly, trusting demeanor were making her feel at bit more at ease, but her heart was still racing as fast as a rabbit.

As if to highlight his point, the king in the north spread his legs for her giving Missandei an obstructed view of his groin. Initially flustered by his brazen action, Missandei still did not take her eyes from him, her greedy eyes taking in every part of him hoping that his image would be engraved in her mind for many nights to come.

“Are you spoken for my lady?” was the question that brought her out of her thoughts

She blushed deeply but answered nonetheless with a shake of her head.

“I see… do you know what a safe word is?” he asked again after a few moments.

The sudden change of topic made her frown but she still responded, “You mean like in a game?” at seeing his affirmative nod, she nodded as well.

“So if I asked you for a safe word, what would yours be?”

She thought about it for a few moments before answering finally, “Dracarys. It means dragon fire in high Valyrian”

“How appropriate” Jon stated with a laugh, “well then my lady, I’d like you to keep that in mind and use it should the situation call for it”

Still not understanding where this was going, Missandei gave him a nod and watched as he submerged himself into the pool, his whole body disappearing from her view.  
Missandei wondered what he was up to until suddenly, she wasn't treading water anymore – she was sitting on Jon's shoulders. She opened her mouth, ready to shout out her safe word but Jon's tongue flicked out, burying itself in her snatch.

She gasped, her breath catching in her throat as his tongue moved like lighting. He rotated it around her sensitive nub clockwise, then counterclockwise in tight, quick circles.  
She opened her mouth, ready to cry out her safe word but the word 'Dracarys' died on her lips as Jon flicked his tongue sideways across her clit, making her jump and flinch every time he hit the sensitive cluster of nerve endings at the top.

Missandei moaned, then looked around apprehensively. That was a little too loud. Despite the late hour she still needed to keep her voice down, but Jon was making that next to impossible. Her pussy was on fire, and Jon was stoking the flame, making her body hotter than the water with each passing second.

She had heard so many stories about a man doing this for a woman but experiencing yourself… gods the pleasure was indescribable. 

They weren’t supposed to be doing this, she said to herself in denial, her mind at war with her body. I'm the queen’s advisor. And he, a king from a different land. Another flick of his tongue. Another jolt through her nerves. Another gasp of pleasure. He is in open rebellion against her queen and yet… gods it felt so good.

He shoved his tongue inside her again and she bit down on her lower lip to keep from crying out to loudly and alerting the Dothraki guards lurking in the halls. He was sending waves of pleasure through her, adding to the thrill of the excitement of being discovered that she was feeling. She wanted to shout, scream her safe word but Jon’s tongue stopped her at every turn, working over her pussy better than her wildest fantasies.

"Oh, your grace… Jon…" Missandei's eyes flicked to the door, wondering if anyone heard her. She'd be in deep trouble if someone found them, especially Vary’s so-called ‘little birds’. She'd never been in trouble before, not with her queen and now here she was, naked in a pool, with a man, no, a king who was eating her out like it was his last meal.  
The two of them could be spotted at any moment – and it was only exciting her more.

Her thoughts were lost as her body started to twitch and shudder. She knew what was coming and how close she was. The heat in her face and pussy quickly spread, the pressure building as she struggled to keep herself quiet – keep herself under control but she was quickly losing both battles.

"J-Jon… I-I'm going to…" 

Jon responding by extending his tongue and found Missandei’s clit, her moans grew in volume as he enveloped her with his lips, his tongue flicking and dancing across her pearl, then returning to her sex to lap at the juices that now flowed freely from within. He swirled around the pleasure nub and then split her lips. Her cunt fluttered around his tongue and her mind went blank, registering nothing but the pleasure Jon brought forth within her. 

She cried out, her toes curling as she pulled his hair in a tight grip and her eyes rolled into the back of her head whilst her whole body shook as Jon extended her orgasm by latching onto her clit with his lips, sucking it into his mouth and flicking his tongue over it at the same time.

Her body shuddered one last time before she collapsed, her head lolling to the side. Her eyes were glossy as she stared aimlessly at the king was grinning widely at her. Her legs were shaking and she blinked a few times, trying to get the world to stop spinning around her. She tried to stand properly but her legs didn't cooperate, fortunately Jon was there hold her until she got her bearings right.

A few minutes’ passed with her catching her breath as Jon held on to her, saying nothing until she looked at his smiling face.

“Was that good?” he asked though by the look on his face and the sounds she was making, she could tell that he knew the answer. She still nodded fervently.

“Well I’m glad you liked it my lady” he said before laying a chaste kiss on her forehead, “goodnight Missandei” he whispered before getting out of the pool and walking out of the bathhouse.

LINE BREAK

Jon Snow did not expect for Missandei to come to him the next night, they hadn’t spoken much throughout the day and whenever there eyes found one another, she was quick to avert her gaze even more so than usual. For a moment, Jon was afraid that perhaps he had made a mistake in eating her out but remembering her moans last night set him at ease.

He heard a knock on his chamber door just as he was preparing himself for sleep and quickly bid the person to enter.

“Your grace” she spoke with the ever present blush adorning her cheeks. 

“My lady” he responded.

“I… you…” she stuttered seemingly at a loss of what to say, still he did not interrupt her content in giving her time to get her thoughts in order. Finally after taking a few deep breaths she said, “What you did to me last night, it…”

“Do you regret it?” he enquired, his earlier fear returning to him.

“No not at all” Missandei spoke all too quickly, “It was… magical. I’ve never felt anything like that before. Before I was freed, my master, he hurt me. A lot. He took me to his bed quite often, and often times I would be left sore and sometimes I bled.” 

A look of fury and disgust adorned his face as he considered the Naathian’s confession, he wondered what was wrong with men in the world. First Sansa, then Daenerys and now Missandei. He could feel his chest light up with unrestrained fury at the monsters who are capable of such things.

His quiet rage was not lost on Missandei however as she was to put him at ease.

“It’s okay, his dead now, burned alive” 

“Good” he said with no remorse whatsoever.

”But last night… what I felt, it was nothing like my past experiences. It was so pleasurable and satisfying, euphoric in a way I never thought possible”

“I’m glad” he said truthfully, happy that atleast his actions give her something to replace the terrible memories. “Sex is not supposed to be forced and I both sides aren’t feeling any pleasure, its just… terrible in possible way”

A moment of silence passed as she carefully considered his words before she took a few small strides until she stood a few inches away from him, for once looking directly at him.

“I want to know how good it can be, I’ve heard so many stories but I want to feel I for myself” she whispered softly

“Okay” he said taking a few steps towards her but with every step he took she took a step back, wanting him to understand the nature of their relation before it got underway.

“But you must understand, my queen cannot know about this” she implored

“I understand” he assured as he took another step to her until her back was pressed against the door.

“Once she comes back we’ll have to end this”

“I respect that” he said bringing both his hands on either sides of her, effectively trapping her with her back to the door, his body in front of her and his hands closing her in a tight space. But still, she wasn’t afraid, on the contrary, she was excited. 

Her cheeks were flushed and she felt her longing yawn wide. Her mouth flooded with saliva and her cunt pounded with arousal. She shuddered slightly as she remembered the feeling of his mouth on her pussy.

She waited for him to do something, anything, but he simply chose to look at her, wetting his lips in the process. He was making her feel a bit of frustrated until she realized that he was waiting for her to give him permission.

With that thought in mind, Missandei lightly licked his lips before whispering in his ear, “Fuck me Jon Snow”

Their lips met almost immediately, gently at first, then suddenly more frantic, Missandei didn’t resist as his tongue ran across her lips looking for entrance which she granted. Deepening the kiss, she wrapped her arms around his neck even as a hand slid into her pants as he began to rub her dampened smallclothes along her slit causing the woman to moan which he silenced by kissing her.

Out of nowhere, she roughly pushed him back with so such surprising force that he found his back onto the floor with her sitting on him. He wasn’t able to voice his surprise as she went back to kissing with fervent passion seemingly too impatient to go to the bed that was just right next to them. 

Jon squeezed her ass and expertly flipped her unto her back, his hands fumbled with the laces on her outfit as hers did the same for his clothes. Jon found himself too impatient to deal with her intricate loops and so started ripping her clothes until she was as naked as her nameday and him remaining with only his tunic.

The King began to lick at her nipples, the tip of his tongue dancing around the point before moving outwards in a slow circle, past the areola until he was sucking the tender, sensitive flesh along the underside. Missandei let out a small moan as his tongue trailed in a straight line back to her nipple. She gasped as he bit down on it lightly with his teeth.  
His lips and tongue moved to the hollow between her breasts and worked their way south, tracing a path down her stomach. He wanted her to enjoy, to forget everything bad that has ever happened to her and think of only the pleasure he would give her and most importantly he wanted her to shout his name, to quiver in delight as her serviced her, and Jon smiled to himself as he continued his work.

He noticed that the area around her bellybutton was more sensitive than the rest, so he flicked his tongue around the opening. He was rewarded for his efforts, because she flinched and squirmed every time he gave her a particularly hard flick.

After a minute or so he continued down, past the remnants of her breeches and hovered over her snatch. He used his thumbs to pry open her pussy lips, exposing her clit. He actually grinned this time as he dove down and started flicking his tongue all over it; starting at the hood and moving clockwise in a circle.

Missandei moaned loudly as he worked his way around her glistening slit. "Oh, yeah. More… More of that please," she urged him. She could feel her wetness mixing with his saliva, making her entire crotch slippery and slick. She spread her legs wider, giving him more room to work with and he took advantage of the opportunity, flicking his tongue across her sensitive nub. She gasped and arched her back in pleasure.

"Oh, fuck…" Missandei moaned through half-lidded eyes. "Gods, that feels so good, Oh," she stuttered, grabbing fistfuls of his hair and pressing his face harder into her snatch. She was practically swimming in her own juices now, and they coated her entire groin area and most of her inner thighs. She clamped down on his head with her legs, squeezing it reflexively every time his tongue travelled over a particularly sensitive bundle of nerves either on, or around her clit.

"S-Stick… i-it… stick it in me…" she almost pleaded, encouraging him to move on. She couldn’t believe this. She never knew that it could feel so good, gods if he kept this up, she'd cum within minutes.

Instead, she felt the sharp stab of his tongue as it plunged deeply into her sweet spot again and again, like a viper striking at its prey.

"AAAAHHHHHH!" she cried out, her grip on his hair tightening. He was working the entire region – several quick jabs into her wet depths, accompanied by small pauses as he would roll his tongue around inside her for a few seconds. Then he would work his way around the rim of the opening, before moving up to her clit and giving it a few more flicks. Then he would stab his tongue back into her cunt as deep as he could, repeating the process all over again.

She removed one hand from his hair and grabbed her breast, squeezing hard and pinching the nipple. Her head was thrashing from side to side as she gasped out the words, "No more… Fuck…", even though her other hand remained tangled in his hair, making sure he didn't stop fucking her with his tongue.

Missandei arched her back repeatedly, her legs opening and closing wildly as her hands flailed about her sides, trying to grip something but there was nothing on the floor to hold on to and the bed was out of her reach. She was biting her lip, trying to stop her shouts of ecstasy as she fought the growing pressure in her core, knowing that she couldn't hold it back much longer.

Two more quick thrusts by Jon with his tongue and a quick nip at her clit with his teeth was all it took.

"OOOHHHH, FFUUUUUUUUUCCCKK!" Missandei screamed, her toes curling as she pulled her bent legs closer to her chest. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head and her whole body shook as Jon extended her orgasm by latching onto her clit with his lips, sucking it into his mouth and flicking his tongue over it at the same time.

Her body shuddered one last time before she collapsed, her head lolling to the side. Her eyes were glossy as she stared aimlessly at the ceiling and a line of drool trailed down one cheek, pooling into a wet spot on the floor.

Jon lifted his smiling face, which was coated with a fresh surge of her juices and looked at her. "So… how was that?" he asked a bit smugly.

Words failed to describe how she felt, she was out of breath and her cunt was quivering from the delightful assault.

“It was… it was… Gods” she giggled as she tried to catch her breath. A few minutes was all it took before she reached down and invitingly spread her pussy wide with two fingers.  
Scooting forward on his knees and positioning the head of his cock at her entrance, moving it around to lubricate the tip Jon glanced one last time at Missandei, who was grinning shyly at him. She reached up and pulled his tunic off over his head, tugging him forward and shoving his cock into her, up to the hilt.

Missandei gasped out in pleasure as he filled her and she fell backwards onto the floor, her legs going straight into the air and her arms splaying out on either side. His tunic was still in one hand and she clutched it hard, refusing to let it go.

Jon leaned in, pushing her legs farther back and bearing down, trying to piledrive his dick straight into her from above. Every time their hips met with a loud 'slap' Missandei cried out, demanding more from him. The hand not holding his tunic pounded the floor in denial from the unbelievable amounts of pleasure Jon Snow was giving her.

The northern king was working up a sweat, doing his best to shove his dick into her pussy as far as he could. He wanted to hit her deepest parts; places hardly anyone had ever touched but as he thrust into her, faster and harder with every stroke, he was also driven to the brink of insanity by just how unbelievably tight she was.

He grabbed one of her ankles and twisted her body onto the side, straightening her left leg and while he kept the right one pointing toward the ceiling. He pulled out, leaving only the head of his dick inside of her and stopped moving. The queen’s advisor turned her head to look at him with shocked eyes, wondering why he suddenly stopped and silently pleading with him keep going.

That was what he was waiting for. He thrust his hips forward, slamming into her as hard as she could and Missandei shoved his tunic, which she was still clutching in her hand, into her mouth to muffle her carnal screams.

Over and over he thrust into her as hard as he could, trying to make her feel every inch of his cock. But he also noticed that each time he slammed into her she moved a fraction of an inch forward, and even in the middle of his lust-induced state, he realized that very soon they'd be halfway across his chamber room floor and well on their way to the door.  
Jon snow needed something, anything, to keep her body from moving forward. 

His left hand was still holding her right ankle and he twisted her once again, until he was kneeling and she was sitting on his crotch. Then he grabbed her arms and wrapped them around his neck, pressing her tits against him. They slipped around on his bare chest as Missandei ground her hips against him which was quite easy to do, since they were both covered in a combination of sweat and her sexual fluids. Every rotation against his cock hit another spot, bringing her a new sensation and she grabbed his neck tighter, panting heavily in his ear.

And then he grabbed her ass cheeks and stood up, prompting the Naathian to stop grinding and start bouncing on his rock hard erection. She wrapped her legs around him and squeezed with each thrust, trying to get him as deep into her as possible. He'd been hitting certain nerve endings that were driving her mad with desire, and because of the new position that suddenly stopped, and she wanted it back.

Apparently, she had nothing to worry about because Jon turned, still holding her up with her ass cheeks and slammed her against the door, thrusting forward as she did so.  
Missandei screamed so loud that Jon was sure he'd go deaf, since her mouth was still right next to his ear.

But he didn't care. Right now he wanted her sweaty. He wanted her slippery. And he wanted her screaming his name, like no woman has ever done.

He pulled back and slammed into her again, causing a loud bang to resonate in the room. Then he teased her, slowly pulling his cock out of her folds until only the head was left inside and then he slammed into her again with more force than last time.

Again he pulled out agonizingly slow as Missandei gasped for breath and slammed into her, even harder this time.

The two of them flinched slightly at the noise, and Missandei might have cared about the moving away from the loud door, if she wasn't more concerned why Jon was taking his time, and not fucking her like a wild animal.

"J-Jon, Please… don't you DARE tease me like this!" she snapped angrily. She squeezed her legs, which were wrapped around his waist, making him shove his cock back into her pussy as hard as she could. She moaned and dug her nails into his back, relishing the feeling.

"I… I told you to fuck me…" she continued, squeezing his waist and shoving him into her again. She was savoring every stroke, every inch of his impressive dick like Dornish wine but now, she didn't want to savor it. She wanted it hard and fast, like the Northern ale he told her about.

And Jon was more than happy to oblige.

He gave into her demand, fucking her as hard and as fast as he could. She let out several gasps and guttural moans with every thrust, as his dick seemed to enter her pussy at just the right angle, rubbing her g-spot continuously. And even though she felt like she was burning up with lust, Missandei actually shivered when he ran his tongue along her neck, tasting the salty sweetness of her sweat until he reached the top and stuck his tongue in her ear.

And the whole time he was doing this, Jon continued to slam mercilessly into her. Her breath hitched and she bit her lip, trying to hold back her guttural screams of ecstasy with each deep penetration of Jon's hardness into her gushing depths.

He moaned out as she tipped her head and arched her back away from him, until her chest came away from his. Since he couldn't continue to work on her neck he looked down, watching her breasts jiggle and bounce to the same rhythm as her pussy on his cock.

The sight was getting him closer to his own release. "My lady…" he breathed out, trying to hold himself back.

The lithe woman grabbed his hair and yanked, forcing him to look at her. "Mi-Missandei," she growled, her eyes filled with lust. "Say… my name…”

“Missandei… Missandei” Her aggressiveness made Jon slam his hips into her even harder. Her ass was becoming slick with her juices, so he was forced to grab it even harder so he wouldn't lose his grip, digging into her tender flesh and making his skin pale around his fingers.

Missandei breathing became shallow and rapid. "So close… So close…" she called out as her entire body began to shudder in anticipation of the immense orgasm she was about to have. Then her walls clenched around his cock and she screamed loudly, as a fresh batch of juices drooled from her pussy onto the floor.

Jon Snow made one final thrust before he grunted and pulled out, dropping her onto her knees on the carpet. She grabbed his dick and pumped it furiously, shooting his cum all over her face and tits, and he flinched each time she rubbed over a particularly sensitive spot. At the end, after he was almost spent she licked the tip, lapping up the last of his cum like she was finishing off a good meal.

They stayed in that position for several more moments, catching their breath and calming down before they looked at each other and smiled.

LINE BREAK

The sound of flesh meeting flesh graced the air, accompanied by Missandei’s moans. Jon paused to admire the sight before him. She was face down on the bed, her wrists anchored to the bedpost with strong silken knots. Her knees were spread, and her bare ass was raised in the air, the creamy skin bore red handprints. Her desire was evident both by the delicious smell of her sex and the juices that dripped from her core coating her thighs. 

Gripping her hips tightly, Jon pulled her toward him even as he slowly thrust forward, inhaling sharply as his cock forced it's way deeper and deeper inside her. Feeling her tremble around him as he intruded in her body, Jon smirked.

“Are you having fun Missandei? Fucking the man who’s in open rebellion against your queen” 

Missandei yelped at the sudden intrusion into her depths, feeling herself stretch to accommodate his cock. Gods, she was quickly getting addicted to this feeling and as such her pussy quivered around the large member impaling her.

"I wonder, just what will she say when finds that you opend your legs for me?"

Almost immediately he began stirring up her insides causing her to whimper which spurred him on finding the sound highly erotic. Reaching around Jon’s left hand began rubbing her clit while he’s right spanked her ass, he fondled her backside before laying another harsh smack on her delectable skin causing her to raise her head from the bed to howl in pleasure.

Almost immediately she returned her head to its previous position as he stroked himself inside her. His intensify pace caused her grit her teeth and bite into the bed furs in order to muffle her screams causing him to smirk with satisfaction.

Never in his wildest dreams would he dream that the reserved and shy woman in Daenerys’ council would be such a sexual freak. He had quickly learned that she enjoyed being dominated in every possible, Jon wasn’t even surprised when she came to him with rope asking him to tie her hands to the bedpost as he took her from behind.

He spanked again marveling at how red her ass was, groaning as with every smack her inner walls clenched around him a little tightly, almost as if she wished for his dick to be stuck in her forever.

Jon grabbed a fist full of her hair and yanked as thrust even harder, causing his balls to slap against her thighs and her bruised ass to jiggle from the impact. Every thrust was sending sparks of pleasure through her body every time he squeezed her clit and hit her favorite spots inside her.

Groaning lowly, Jon forced his cock as deep as it would go inside her and shuddered as his seed started to fill Missandei's pussy, with every thrust of his hips. Pulling out, the last of his weakening shots painted her pussy lips white, and got caught in her pubic hair as it started to trickle down, quickly joined as their combined release trickled out of her.

LINE BREAK

“Oh god your grace, harder,” Missandei moaned as she was pinned against the wall of the large pool of the bathhouse as her lover pressed himself against her from behind. Reaching up, he cradled the side of her face as he turned it to kiss him. She didn’t need the prompting as her tongue met his as they made out hotly while he pumped away at her insides.

Jon withdrew from inside of her but before she could complain spun her around to slam her up against the shower wall before quickly filling her once more. The King in the North gripped her ass possessively allowing the queen’s advisor to pull her feet from the ground as she wrapped her legs around his hips. She moaned loudly as he sucked on her tit prompting her lover stop as he said, “Missandei, you need to keep it down. It won’t do us a whole lot of good if your Queen finds out what were up too.”

Missandei though at that moment didn’t find herself caring much as she pulled her torso close to his as she began to suck and nibble on his ear prompting him to say with a chuckle, “Is that what you want? For her grace to find out that you opened your legs Me.” he leaned back to stare into her eyes as her cunt tightened to unbearable levels.

He groaned as he felt her flex her cunt around his large needle while she moaned, “Yes. Yes. Yes. Fuck me. Make me scream.” With that Jon began pumping harder as he leaned in to once more engage her tongue in a wet and sloppy kiss. However, she wasn’t dissuaded from making her point as the kiss ended as she picked up where she left off. “I mean it,” she said while Jon again paid attention to her breasts. 

Missandei felt her body preparing to ascend into pure bliss once more. She pulled her lover tighter against her and moaned as he began to suck on her neck. Almost a week of vigorous fucking had made her quite aware that Jon was nearing his end as well due to his deeper and more penetrating thrusts as he tried to make sure that all of his seed reached her womb. He pulled her hips tightly against his as she felt his heat fluid her insides causing her to nearly scream in pleasure. But despite her earlier insistence that she didn’t care she muffled herself by clamping down over his shoulder.

After he was finished filling her with his seed the two remained where they were as they caught their breaths. Finally, Missandei placed her feet into the pool as Jon pulled out some of his seed taking the opportunity to slip from her love tunnel. He stepped back but Missandei quickly sank to her knees and grabbed ahold of his manhood. Jon looked down as she pushed some of her wet hair behind her ear before staring up at him. Her honey-brown eyes twinkled with amusement as she said, “My king.” She sighed in pure ecstasy. 

with the hot water of the bathhouse running down their bodies, Jon Snow couldn’t help but just close his eyes and relax. This was the general routine of their sessions, it would start with him putting his mouth on her cunt and after a few hours of fucking, it would end with her sucking on off.

LINE BREAK

“The Queen is returning, on the morrow” Missandei whispered to him as she traced the scar on his chest. They were currently laying on the furs of his bed after another bout of fucking.

“So I’ve heard” 

The raven came the day before, everyone in the castle was talking about it.

“You know what this means?” she asked, though it wasn’t a question at all. They had agreed that their relationship would last as long as Daenerys was still fighting against the Lannisters elsewhere.

But still, it didn’t make this any easier to bear, he had grown fond of her and the moments they had shared together.

“I know” he responded with a despondent sigh. He took the hand stroking his scar and give it a chaste kiss. “I’ll miss you, I’ll miss this”

She stared at him with her beautiful smile, her face lighting up by his honest words.

“I’ll miss you too” she whispered against him as resumed her tracing of his scars.

They stayed like that in comfortable silence before she raised herself up from his bed to give his body a thorough inspection.  
“You’re beautiful…” she finally said, her big eyes widening in appraisal. 

“Even with the scars?” asked Jon giving her a nonchalant grin though Missandei could easily spot the vulnerability he was trying to hide.

“The scars only highlight you beauty” she spoke truthfully frowning at his incredulous snort. “You shouldn’t be ashamed of them Jon Snow, your scars tell the story of your survival and your triumphs.”

“Well unfortunately my lady, my scars have no stories of bravery or victories behind them, most of them tell stories of my failures and my losses…” he gave a bitter laugh at that, melancholy written all over his face. “Some of them are just bloody embarrassing…”

Missandei caressed his cheek soothingly before her hand traced the scar along his left eye. “How did you get this one?”

“An eagle attacked me. A man I once killed was capable of controlling it with his mind. When I attacked him, he made the bird attack and this was the result” Jon explained gruffly watching her eye him with disbelief and amusement before she slowly kissed the scar.

“And this?” Pointing at the burns on his hand.

“Mmh, I was defending myself from the first Wight I ever saw, I tried killing it my sword, stabbed it a few times with a dagger but nothing worked until I grabbed a lantern and threw it at the Wight did it truly die. That’s how I knew that fire can be used to kill them”

She took his burnt hand in her own and kissed every knuckle.

“Here?” indicating the dark spot a few inches from his heart.

He hesitated for a few seconds before answering, “The first time I lived with the wildlings, it was to spy on them. I was told to find out why more and more of them were moving towards the wall, I ended up falling in love with one of the women but when my duties were called into question, I chose duty over love and well… She wasn’t quite happy about that. I shot an arrow in me here” pointing at the dark spot before Missandei quickly a kiss on it. “Here” he said again pointing at another spot on the left side of his ribcage and Missandei responded again with a kiss on it. 

“And the last one here” placed his finger on his left thigh where arrow was still visible.

“What about these?” she finally enquired on the ones that bothered her most, the big scars on his chest.

“Mutiny.” he said simply. “I allowed the wildlings south of the wall to save them, my men didn’t agree with that. Said that I had betrayed the Night’s Watch. I failed to convince them that it was the right thing to do. So they lure me out and… stabbed me to death.”

The angry face of Olly as he pierced his heart will forever be engraved in his mind.

“How… How did you survive?” Missandei stuttered out, her eyes glossy and her lips quivered as she kissed at each one deeply before concluding with the one on his heart.

“I didn’t“, He responded flatly but choose to elaborate upon seeing her confusion. “A priestess from Asshai brought me back, I don’t know why or how but she did and here I am”

“I see” she said softly as she laid next to him, her head resting on his shoulder whilst her hand going back to caressing his scars.

“There’s another one, its been making me uncomfortable for the last few minutes.” He grinned, gesturing to his erection as the sadness in her eyes was quickly replaced with lust.

“OH? Then I guess I just have to kiss it better” she giggled before grasping his cock in her small hands. She slowly stroked it and looked at Jon with a lustful smirk. She stopped herself just as she was about to swallow it, getting at of the bed in haste.

“I almost forgot something” she said as she picked her breeches and took out a small vial of oil and gave to him. Her was blushing deeply and avoided eye contact as he examined the little vial.

A few seconds later, a look of realization passed through him as he gave her a wolfish grin. Jon softly grabbed her face and made her look at him.

“What would you like me to do with this my lady” he teased.

“I think you know” she whispered softly, her voice the epitome of innocence though what she was suggesting anything but. 

“I would like for you to tell me my lady” he insisted, placing light kisses on her collar bone.

“I want you to fuck my face”

“What was that? I couldn’t hear you”

“I want you to fuck my ass” she ordered, a little louder this time, her eyes widen with anticipation and her heart beating wildly, not at all believing that she just told the King in the North do such a thing.

That was how he made her feel, like she could give herself to him in all the ways a woman would give herself to man with no fear that he would hurt her or mistreat her.  
Jon’s eyes darkened as he carefully considered her words, his tongue tracked along her neck until he reached her ear and gently bit the lobe.

“As my lady commands” he said darkly. 

Jon grabbed Missandei’s hips and flipped her onto her stomach, her firm yet jiggling ass and pussy exposed to his eyes. He delivered a long lap with his tongue from clit to ass that brought about a squeal from her.

He poured a liberal amount of oil directly onto Missandei’s ass and gathered the excess to lube his cock and then pushed two fingers into her.

He slowly stroked the two fingers into her ass as the other hand slowly squeeze her clit teasingly. When she was lubed enough, Jon placed a kiss on her cunt before positioning his cock to her ass.

He palmed Missandei’s full buttocks and buried inside of ass in a single stroke, her moans was muffled by the sheets.

“Fuck… you’re so tight…” he gritted his teeth at the overwhelming feeling, he wasn’t sure just how long he could last like this.

LINE BREAK

Jon stood at the cliffs of Dragonstone, watching as the largest of the dragons, Drogon, returned after almost a moon of absence with Daenerys. Drogon swooped down over Jon and the ground shook as he landed, he watched with a little trepidation as Drogon began to charge forward at him before letting out a roar that shook him to his core. 

But the dragon stopped just a few inches from him and started smelling him, its eyes displaying an intelligence that far surpassed a normal animal. It looked at him intensely as if trying to weigh his worth. 

Slowly, Jon removed one of his gloves and began to stick his hand out to Drogon until his palm made contact with Drogon's snout, surprised to hear it purr in contentment.  
Drogon pulled away as Daenerys climbed down from his back, leaving the two monarchs alone as he joined its brothers.

“There are beautiful, aren’t they?”

“Not the word I was thinking of but, yes, gorgeous beasts”

Daenerys gave him a sharp look. "They're not beasts, to me, they're my children” a look of sadness briefly overtook her before it was quickly wiped out.

"You weren't gone long." He noted 

"No."

"And?"

“And you and Ser Davos were right, the Tarlys betrayed the Tyrells and sided with Cersei. They were planning on laying a siege on Highgarden and claiming it for themselves, luckily we reached before any damage could be done. We snuffed out the traitors, destroyed the Lannister army and captured Jaime Lannister” she accounted to him, smiling at her victories. 

“I see, then I believe congratulations is in order” 

She nodded at his words before enquiring on the mining of the Dragonglass, she explained to her that it was going well and that the third shipment will be north soon.  
Before he could say anything, Jon noticed some of the Dothraki and a man following behind approaching them. Jon recognized the Dothraki who was leading them. His name was Qhono if he remembered correctly, one of the Queen's personal guards.

Qhono spoke something in Dothraki and stepped aside, revealing the man who followed them. He was Westerosi and something about him looked familiar.

Daenerys seemed happy to see this man, whoever he was, and replied in a joyous tone.

The man knelt down on one knee and looked up at her. "You grace," was all he said as he stood up. His eyes turned to Jon, looking cautiously.

"Jon Snow this is Ser Jorah Mormont, an old friend," Daenerys informed.

Lord Commander Mormont's son, the resemblance was surely there. "I served your father as his steward once. He was a great man." Jorah nodded sadly.

"You look strong. You found a cure?" Daenerys asked Jorah.

"I wouldn't be here if I hadn't," He told her. "I'd return to your service if you'd have me."

"It would be my honor." 

She embraced her friend in a welcoming hug and a smile on her face. Jon immediately noted just how young she looked when she let go of her cold mask. Daenerys began to walk with them back to the castle with Ser Jorah Mormont and her Dothraki, but Jon didn't. He had too many things to think about and he really didn’t want to be present when Daenerys reunited with Missandei.

LINE BREAK

Something was different with Missandei, Daenerys observed, it wasn’t just the slight limp to her walk but also her general aura.

She was still the same shy, reserved Missandei she knew and loved but she glowed, in a way she has never seen before.

She had asked about it earlier but the Naathian was tightlipped, refusing to share any details for she knew exactly what that glow meant. 

It was during dinner that Daenerys had a chance to observe her closest advisor. As usual she didn’t speak much unless spoken to and her focus was mostly on her food, or giving pieces of her meat to the large Dire wolf sitting next to her.

But every once in a while her eyes flitted to the King in the north for a second before bringing them back to her food. It was quick but Daenerys was able to catch the little smile she had plastered on her face every time Missandei looked at Jon.

Was he the one responsible for her womanly glow? She couldn’t help but wonder. The answer to that question was something she really didn’t want to think about but her curiosity was eating at her.

For the first time since he found himself in her service, Daenerys found she actually wished for the Varys’ presence. Surely his little birds would have some songs to sing about what has been going on in her castle whilst she was away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> who doesn't love some good old Sexual healing every once in a while. LOL. 
> 
> A bit too long, i know. but i got carried away. anyway, what do you think?  
> Oh and just so you know, meek, stupid S6,7 and 8 Jon doesnt exist to me, D&D fucked him up so bad that he couldnt even speak for himself. so if you're looking for that crackhead that kept saying "She's muh queen", you won't find him here, maybe you can check inside D&D's empty skulls. 
> 
> Recommendation: whilst you're waiting for the next chapter, you might want to check out; Jon Snow Ambition by EQEvash. you won't be dissapointed i assure you. great smut for perverts out there. LoL
> 
> Up next; Daenerys, Sansa or Elia? choose fast.


End file.
